


A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-31
Updated: 2005-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley finds himself in a predicament he never would have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1/11

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Notes: This is “Shawna’s Story,” written exclusively for our “Shower Girl.” About a month ago, Shawna made a request for something none of us were able to find anywhere on the net: A Wesley Mpreg Fic. I was intrigued by the concept and wanted to read one, but amazingly, none seem to exist. She issued a challenge for one to be written, and this story wasn’t so much an attempt to answer her challenge, as it was simply my gift to her in return for all the wonderful tales she’s given us over the years. It began as a short story that grew and grew and grew… 

 

 

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

 

*2006*

 

Sunlight caressed the child’s hair as he toddled across the grass, his attention riveted on a patch of brilliant wildflowers clustered in the distance. He darted toward them, tiny hands outstretched, but his stubby legs were too short to sustain the sudden burst of speed and he stumbled, tumbling to the ground. He blinked in surprise, bewildered by the sudden change of venue, his nose pressed to the ground where the blades of grass now seemed huge to his slightly myopic vision, and he considered the merits of bursting into tears as opposed to continuing his quest to reach the colorful blooms enticing him across the way. Then the sound of laughter reached his ears, drawing his attention.

Deep, masculine laughter drifted on the breeze, and he crawled to a sitting position and turned in the direction the sound came from. A smile brightened his face, all thoughts of tears forgotten as he struggled to his feet and giggled. “Papa,” he grinned, and the man seated on the stone bench watching him, returned his smile with an indulgent one of his own.

“Flower?” the child mumbled softly and the man nodded, renewing the toddler’s enthusiasm to reach his goal. “Pretty?” he inquired, and again the man nodded, encouraging the child to continue his quest to gather a wild bouquet. 

“Pick them and we’ll take them to daddy,” the man said.

The child squealed with delight and scurried off to gather the daffodils into his chubby palms….

The man on the bench leaned back and relaxed in the afternoon sun. He watched his beautiful son in silence as the years melted away…

 

*~*~*~*~*

*Two years before… July 2004*

Wesley lay on his side, his lanky frame curled into as tight a ball as he could manage. He fought to still the turmoil of his thoughts as he struggled to silence the raging voices vying for attention in his weary brain. If only he could sleep. He needed to sleep… to pretend this was all a dream. A sick, twisted perversion of a dream that he would soon wake up from, safe and sound in his own bed in his own apartment in L.A….

Cleveland was hell on earth.

Since coming to the States, he’d never been this far east. Ohio felt flat and desolate. Cleveland gray and colorless. It was easy to believe it was sitting on top of a Hellmouth, and though it took him years to acclimate himself to the bright sunny climate of California, an intimate part of him now considered L.A. home and the people he’d left behind, family. He blinked away a sudden stinging in his eyes and hardened his resolve to silence his thoughts and get some sleep. He was exhausted. The stress of this past month drained the last of his dwindling reserves and if he didn’t get a decent night’s sleep soon, he was going to have a full-fledged nervous breakdown, and the last thing he needed was to totally lose it in front of an already suspicious group of displaced Scoobies. 

The Scoobies.

It was awkward enough, trying to deal with the gang of shell-shocked youths whose own pain was far too raw, without falling apart in front of them. They were only now beginning to accept the presence of the none-too-popular ex-watcher whose unexpected appearance was vaguely explained away by Giles as a “necessary consultant.” 

In the four weeks since his arrival, the Sunnydale refugees studied him with guarded expressions, clearly resenting his introduction into their gang that was struggling to regroup. Especially Xander who was openly hostile at first, the wounds of his own loss apparent in the glares and scathing comments he cast in Wesley’s direction. The ex-watcher never tried to defend himself against the young man’s blatant animosity, but simply turned aside in silence. Until finally, in frustration, Giles intervened, angrily forbidding Xander to remain in the same room with Wesley if he couldn’t, “keep a civil tongue in his mouth,” and further chastising Wesley for not defending himself. Wesley merely shrugged and walked away, leaving a frustrated Giles fuming in his wake.

Things improved after that. 

Marginally. 

Tonight, Wesley struggled to banish the unwelcome memories from his mind as he sought the elusive bliss of sleep that seemed destined to eternally escape him. He hadn’t slept soundly in ages, months in fact…since this nightmare began…. 

He closed his eyes tightly and fought to calm his breathing, but even as he felt himself slipping into dreams, the memories rose to haunt him….

 

*~*~*~*~*

*Four Weeks before… June 2004*

This was the address, Wesley was certain of it. He clutched the crumpled paper in his hand, glanced at the scribbled numbers then stared at the door. He reached out to ring the bell. Paused. Dropped his fist to his side, the paper clutched in his palm, and stood frozen on the step. He’d traveled too far, almost 3,000 miles, to turn back now, but the impulse to do just that grew stronger with each passing minute. Why was he here, imposing on a group of people who had more than their share of heartbreak and worry without him showing up to add his misfortune to the list? Why didn’t he simply ring Giles to discuss the matter? What madness had compelled him to toss his belongings into a bag, hop into his SUV, and head out across country when a simple phone call would suffice?

But even as the thought whirled around his brain, Wesley knew he could never bring himself to discuss his current predicament with the older ex-watcher over the phone. He squeezed his eyes shut. This was a mistake. Coming here was a terrible, foolish mistake, just another in a long, tiresome legacy of Wesley mishaps that defined his existence. He could hear his father’s voice echoing in his mind, berating him for yet another foolhardy choice and the disgraceful series of events that had brought him to this doorstep…

It was best to leave before any of the ex-Sunnydale gang saw him loitering on their porch, thousands of miles from L.A. and the prestigious offices of Wolfram and Hart. He drew a deep sigh, weary to the very marrow of his bones, and reopened his eyes. He was tired. Dead tired from days of travel and weeks of troubled sleep. He felt lightheaded and his sparse breakfast of toast and tea was threatening to go the way of last evening’s equally conservative dinner. His meals were hard pressed to stay down these days and his usually lanky frame was even gaunter than ever. He’d lost weight and a peppering of silver weaved though his dark hair and the unshaven stubble on his cheeks.

He needed to leave before it was too late. There were plenty of hotels in Cleveland, and he could head back to L.A. in the morning. He stuffed the crumpled paper into the pocket of his jeans and turned, even as a second wave of nausea washed over him, stealing his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and beseeched the powers-that-be for strength to make it though another day. He sighed and started to step down from the porch…

The door swung open behind him.

“Wesley, what the devil are you doing here?”

His heart rose into his throat and he spun around to find Giles standing in the open doorway, a look of confusion on his face.

Wesley gasped in surprise and opened his mouth to reply when the world suddenly tilted on its axis and his legs gave way beneath him…

He collapsed into the older man’s arms.

 

*~*~*~*~*

A cool cloth was pressed against Wesley’s forehead and he felt reality slowly swim into focus around him. Someone was speaking to him softly, but the words were muffled and he couldn’t catch what they were saying. He fought to remember where he was, then with a jolt, the memories came flooding back and embarrassment flushed his cheeks. He not only had the audacity to show up unannounced on Giles’ doorstep but he actually passed out cold in the man’s arms. How humiliating. Even now, he was stretched out on a sofa, his legs slightly elevated on a pile of cushions. He struggled to sit up, but strong arms pushed him back. 

“Take it easy. You’re pale as a sheet.”

His vision cleared and he forced himself to look up into the concerned eyes of his fellow ex-watcher. “Giles…I….this is terribly embarrassing….”

“I don’t mind telling you, Wesley, your timing couldn’t be worse. What the devil are you doing here, anyway?” Giles stepped back and allowed Wesley to slowly sit up. “The group has barely managed to settle in since we arrived three months ago. I hardly think they’re up for guests.”

The children! He almost forgot about them. He felt his face redden as he quickly looked around the room. This wasn’t the way he anticipated being reacquainted with the Slayer and her gang. Flat on his back.

Giles obviously understood the look of horror on his face as he quickly reassured. “Relax. The gang’s not here. They missed your little performance.”

Wesley breathed a sigh of relief and dropped his face into his hands. His skin felt cold and clammy to the touch. “Forgive the intrusion. I really should have rung you first.”

“That’s an understatement. If you don’t mind me saying, you look awful. Have you eaten today?”

He nodded numbly, willing his morning meal of tea and toast to stay put as he raised his head and met the man’s eyes. “I know I should have called but I really need your advice and I couldn’t begin to explain it on the phone. I need your help with…research on a matter of grave importance. Please forgive me, but I didn’t know who else to consult on this matter.” He knew he was babbling, and he felt like the fool he’d been when he first arrived in Sunnydale years ago, but he was powerless to stop himself. He’d guarded this secret for months, researching for endless hours, pouring over every text in his possession as well as those in the vaults of Wolfram and Hart, to no avail, hiding an unspoken truth from the people who were closer to him than family, and almost breaking under the strain. He knew firsthand just how dangerous secrets could be. He needed to tell *someone.* But the words caught in his throat and he looked away. 

“Speak up, man. We just spent the last year battling the First and if memory serves me, you and your lot had a run in with the Powers-that-be. This can hardly be as serious as that.”

Wesley drew a ragged breath and tried to calm the racing of his heart. He couldn’t say the words, refused to say the words, since the reality of his situation became apparent after weeks of analyzing every possible option. “It’s incredible really, most incredible…impossible, in fact, but the truth is inescapable. I haven’t reached this conclusion frivolously, I assure you…”

“Would you please stop babbling? What are you trying to tell me?”

“You won’t believe me.” The younger man’s voice fell to a whisper. “I hardly believe it myself.”

The dejected posture of the man drew Giles closer and he rested a hand lightly against his arm. “You’ve come all this distance to tell me something, Wesley, I seriously doubt I’d be inclined to disbelieve you. After all, we’ve faced demons, vampires, even Gods. We were both raised as Watchers; you and I know that *anything* is possible.”

“Anything indeed.” Wesley looked away, unable to meet his ex-colleague’s eyes. “I’m…pregnant.” 

 

*~*~*~*~*

*Five months before… Jan 2004*

 

“Angel?”

The room was cast in shadows; curtains open wide, spilling moonlight into the room and bathing the sublime figure on the bed in peaceful hues. Cordelia. Beautiful but eternally slumbering, Cordelia. The heart and soul of their group. Wolfram & Hart kept their bargain, providing the finest round-the-clock care in the most prestigious sanatorium available in L.A. But their sleeping beauty still rested in perpetual stasis as breathtaking in sleep as she had been in life. 

Wesley’s heart twisted in his chest as he stood in the doorway watching his beloved friend, her breast rising with every breath as if it would be her last, and his closest friend seated in the chair at her side, his head bowed, his face pressed into his hands. 

Angel. 

The dejected slump of the vampire’s broad shoulders reflected the utter despair felt by all of them in the wake of Cordelia’s loss. Days passed and nothing changed. Wesley visited her bedside at least twice a week and he knew the others did as well, Angel in particular, sometimes staying until the break of day forced the vampire to summon the Wolfram & Hart limo with its tinted windows to whisk him into work without a moment’s rest. 

Wesley turned to leave, to grant his two best friends their moment of privacy. He would come back later….

“Wesley?” The vampire raised his head and turned toward the figure in the doorway, his dark eyes bright with unshed tears.

The ex-watcher’s stomach twisted like a knife was thrust into his gut. Angel’s vulnerability was something he was reluctant to intrude upon. “I’m sorry…” He stammered. “I was just leaving….”

“Stay.”

The word was a simple, heartfelt request that took him by surprise; usually Angel preferred to be alone with Cordelia when the pain became too intense. Wesley faltered uncertain, lingering in the doorway.

“Please.”

The desperation in Angel’s tone was the catalyst he needed to compel him forward into the room. Wesley closed the door behind him, leaving the chamber basked in beams of moonlight spilling through the opened windows, and he silently slipped into a corner of the comfortably furnished room where he sat on the sofa, leaving his friend to continue his vigil, head once again bowed.

Wesley closed his eyes and the minutes passed as the prayers he’d spoken a million times, to as many deities as he could name, softly passed his lips, as they did every night he visited Cordelia’s side. Usually, he sat next to her, holding her hand, but tonight Angel occupied that special place, closest to her side, but Wesley didn’t mind. There was something intimate and somehow appropriate about the three of them together here, alone, as it was in the beginning, long before the appearance of Gunn and Fred forever altered the composition of their lives and the closeness of their trio. This was right and proper, and Wesley was grateful for this simple moment, basking in the solitude of their time together, knowing it might never come again.

Hours passed.

A deep, ragged breath, drew his attention, and Wesley looked up, pausing in the middle of an ancient recitation he’d learned in youth, beseeching an obscure Sumerian deity believed to watch over the world of dreams and those who sleep. Pulled from his reverie, he blinked and turned in the direction of the sound. Angel sat slumped in his chair, face in his hands, and Wesley fought the impulse to rise and move to his side. He held his silence, reluctant to intrude, poised on the edge of the sofa.

“It’s all my fault. *Everything.*”

Angel’s words cut through the stillness of the room, his pain wrenching a response from Wesley’s own tattered heart.

“It’s not your fault, Angel. Everything that happened…it was Cordy’s choice. We all made bad choices and we all suffered the consequences.”

The vampire slowly shook his head, his eyes riveted on the motionless figure on the bed. “Don’t you understand, Wes? You’re my responsibility. All of you. None of you would even be here if it weren’t for my damned mission. You said it yourself once, I’m the reason you’ve all come together, your reason for being. My mistakes caused this mess in the first place. Damn it to hell!”

“Cordy, Gunn, Fred and myself, we all chose to be here, at your side. You never forced any of us to make the decisions we made this past year. Cordelia chose to become a higher being. She couldn’t have known that she was being betrayed by Skip into producing some horrid demon spawn. For all we know, the Cordy we knew died the night she fell into her original coma on her birthday. The being that returned to earth carrying Jasmine, that creature might have been merely a vessel, containing nothing more than Cordelia’s memories.”

“If that’s true,” Angel whispered in anguish. “Then this is nothing more than a shell that will never awaken. I refuse to believe that, Wes. My sanity depends on believing that one day she’ll wake up.”

Wesley drew in his breath and held it, resisting the impulse to cross the room to his friend’s side. “We have to hope for the best,” he responded. “Cordelia’s the strongest woman I’ve ever known. If anyone can come back from this, she can.”

“All I wanted was my family to be safe. The way it used to be.” The vampire’s voice was barely audible in the stillness of the room and Wesley had to strain to hear it. “When I was at the bottom of the ocean, it was all I dreamed of, day after day. All of us, together, happy and safe, one big family. Cordy, you…my son….”

A jolt of pain pierced the ex-watcher’s heart and he quickly looked away from the forlorn figure draped in moonlight, head bent. Shame burned his cheeks. Angel hadn’t mentioned his son in quite sometime, but the tragic events leading to Wesley’s betrayal and the loss of Angel’s son would be forever burned into his conscience. He betrayed the trust of his dearest friend and cost him the life of his only child. Stolen by Holtz and taken to a hell dimension, the boy was never seen again. It was all Wesley’s fault, a nightmare for which he would never forgive himself. He would give his very soul to correct it, if his tarnished soul was worth anything to any being that would grant such a wish. 

He hung his head in silence. How could Angel ever forgive him? It seemed impossible for any man to forgive such a thing, when Wesley could never forgive himself. But the vampire found it in his heart to once more call him friend. This past year, he slowly accepted him back into the group as they fought side-by-side against the Beast, trusted him to remove his very soul to give Angelus free reign, and ultimately battled, together, against Cordelia’s supernatural spawn, Jasmine. He didn’t deserve such compassion, he knew, but Angel had a bigger heart than any of them ever imagined, and though the shadow of an unspoken pain sometimes darkened his face, Angel never mentioned his son to Wesley again.

Until tonight.

“I thought that I was doing the right thing,” Angel’s voice rose softly and filled the hush. “But sometimes I wonder if I had the right to play God with all your lives.

Wesley frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“When I made the executive decision to accept Wolfram & Hart’s offer for all of us.”

“I’m sure you felt that you were doing what was best. They’ve kept their end of the bargain to provide Cordelia with the best possible care. I can’t say that I would have been inclined to accept their offer on my own, but I’m certain with their resources we’ve been able to help far more people than we would have otherwise. You made the best possible decision given the circumstances.”

“I wonder if you would still feel that way if you knew…” Angel’s voice trailed and he looked away.

“Knew what?”

He shook his head and murmured, “Nothing. It’s irrelevant now.”

“I trust you, Angel.” Wesley responded with conviction. “And I trust whatever decision you made. I don’t have to know the details to know you would only do what was best for us.”

The vampire turned and met his gaze, his eyes deep with emotion. “You really do trust me don’t you, Wes? The same way I should have trusted you…when you took my boy. I should have known you were only doing what you thought was best.”

“That’s hardly the same thing.” Wesley’s heart rose into his throat. “You had every right to be enraged by what I did.” The memory of a pillow stealing his labored breath rose to haunt him as it still haunted his dreams. Instinctively, his hand rose to touch the scar traced along his neck.

“Enraged, yes. But, still…later, when the shock passed, I should have known that you weren’t trying to hurt me or the baby, that you…loved him as surely as I.”

Wesley squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look his friend in the face. “I didn’t have the right to make the decision that I made when I made it. I felt, at the time, that I had no choice and that it was the best thing to do for everyone concerned. But I was wrong. It wasn’t my place to make that decision unilaterally, for all of us. I was wrong.”

“Unilaterally,” the vampire repeated softly. “Just as I made the decision I made for all of us with Wolfram and Hart.”

“As I said, that’s hardly the same.”

“No.” Angel shook his head. “It is the same. But I’m not in a position to explain. I wish I could, but I can’t. It would just make things worse.”

Wesley frowned in confusion but chose not to pursue the matter. His friend looked heartbroken enough without delving deeper into a conversation about what could never be changed. The past was the past and the decisions they made, and the consequences that resulted, were irrevocable. They were burdens both men would simply have to live with. “I would give anything to change the past,” he told his friend, sincerely. “To undo what I’ve done.”

“Don’t say that!” Angel interrupted sharply, startling the ex-watcher. “You don’t know what you’d be wishing for by making such a deal.”

“A deal with the devil,” he responded. “A deal that would bring your son back to you.”

“What’s done is done,” the vampire snapped. “Forget it.”

“Angel, you don’t understand.” The words wrenched from his heart. “I cost you your son. I would give anything to give him back to you.”

“Damn it, Wesley, shut up!” Angel rose from his chair and stormed across the room, glaring down at the man. “It’s over and can’t be undone. It’s all for the best.”

“How can you say such a thing; he’s in a hell dimension? It’s all my fault and I never told you…I never said…” His voice broke as he fought the emotions threatening to steal his breath. “I never told you…” He swallowed hard and whispered, “That I’m sorry.”

The anger drained from Angel, leaving him deflated and he slowly sank to the sofa at Wesley’s side. “It’s not your fault. Yes, you made a choice that hurt us all, but I made a choice too…a choice I’ll have to live with for the rest of my unnatural life.” His shoulders sagged and he dropped his face into his hands. 

“Angel, I…” He trailed when he noticed the trembling of the vampire’s broad shoulders and realized that Angel was crying. He gasped in surprise and reached out his hand to touch his friend’s arm then hesitated, his hand suspended in midair, unsure of what to do. In all the years he’d known the vampire, he’d never seen his companion weep. He was at a loss, uncertain of how his friend might respond to his attempt to offer comfort. “Angel?” he repeated softly and tentatively touched his arm.

The vampire raised his head, his eyes dark with pain. “I miss him. I miss everything the way it was.” He turned and looked at the sublime form of Cordelia resting on the bed, then back to stare into Wesley’s face. “Our…family.”

“I know.” Wesley’s heart began to race as he fell into Angel’s intense gaze. He missed it too, the way things used to be in the years before the baby, Fred and even Gunn, the intimacy of belonging somewhere for the first time in his life, when it was just the three of them. Having a home with people who trusted and believed in him, before the betrayal, the darkness, and Lilah. Before he threw it all away. “I miss it, too,” he confessed, leaning near to his friend.

“Wes…” Angel hesitated; a strange expression shadowed his face, then he reached out and clasped the ex-watcher’s arm, taking him by surprise. “Stay. Here. Tonight. Don’t go.”

The request, almost a plea, startled him, and it took him a moment to process the words, shifting through them and trying to decipher the meaning beneath. “Sure,” he stammered. “Of course, I’ll stay.”

Angel’s grip tightened on his arm, then suddenly he leaned close, and to Wesley’s utter astonishment, pressed his lips to his mouth…


	2. 2/11

*~*~*~*~*

 

*June 2004*

 

“Wesley, man, snap out of it.”

The familiar voice broke though the turmoil of his thoughts and Wesley blinked. His vision slowly swam into focus and he found Giles’ confused face staring intently into his. “Do you have any idea of the enormity of what you’re saying?”

The young man nodded, unable to repeat the words.

“Wesley, you realize, of course, that you don’t have a womb.” He pointed out with the exaggerated calm of a doctor speaking to a mental patient. 

“I do now.” The words were barely audible to his ears. “It would appear to be a sort of mystical aura containing the…the…entity.”

“Good, God, you’re serious, aren’t you?” He gasped and his eyes automatically dropped to Wesley’s almost emaciated frame, lingering on his abdomen. Wes caught his expression and Giles averted his stare. “You’re certain there isn’t some other sort of explanation?”

“Quite certain, I assure you. I’ve researched this thoroughly and I consulted every mystic in southern California and several in Nevada. Every shaman I’ve consulted assures me that not only is it alive, but if we attempt to breach the aura surrounding it, I’ll die. Trust me, it’s there.”

“You’re convinced it’s….it’s alive?”

Wesley nodded numbly.

“Good, God,” he repeated, slowly shaking his head. “Only you could manage to bugger things so thoroughly.”

Wesley felt the blood drain from his face and he looked away, avoiding the older man’s stare.

At the look of utter dismay on the young man’s face, Giles softened the harshness of his tone and said softly, “Look, we’ll figure this out. Do you have any idea how developed this fetus is?”

“Five months.”

“Five months! We have to remove this thing before it’s too late.”

“You’re right…of course,” Wesley responded lamely. “Any supernatural… conception…” he choked on the word and continued in a whisper, “Is quite likely to be malevolent in nature. Cordelia has had the misfortune of experiencing no less than two paranormal pregnancies in the past few years. And you’re aware that Angel fathered a child. Darla encountered a similar inability to extract the fetus she was carrying.”

He nodded solemnly. “And I thought the Hellmouth was a hot bed of paranormal occurrences, but it seems to me that L.A.’s cornered the market on bizarre fetal gestations. Although, I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered an instance of male pregnancy. But then again, to my knowledge, no vampire has ever been recorded to have fathered a child, either, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Do you have any idea what could have precipitated this?”

“It’s clearly mystical in origin.” Wesley found himself unable to look the man in the face, his mind a whirl of confusion and not a little embarrassment. “So much has happened these past 2 years,” he continued vaguely. “I know that our memories have been slightly altered. It took me a while to figure it out, but too many anomalies kept cropping up. Memories that would come and go. Some of us seemed more affected than others. Angel and I finally determined that it was the residual effects of Jasmine’s mind control. Most of the important events have come back so it probably isn’t of any relevance. Still, it’s unnerving.”

“You don’t believe Jasmine had anything to do with this, do you?” 

“No. She was destroyed months before this happened. My first conclusion was a spell of some sort, but according to every shaman I consulted, they couldn’t detect any residual energy indicating that magic had been used. I also suspected Wolfram & Hart, as I will never entirely trust their motives, but there’s nothing in their files to indicate they could possibly profit from such a thing.”

“What does Angel make of all this?”

Wesley gave a start at the mention of the vampire’s name. He swallowed hard and answered vaguely, “I determined that it was best to handle this particular predicament on my own.”

“They don’t know!” Giles gasped in surprise. “You haven’t told the fellow members of your group? Why the hell not?”

Wesley shrugged, avoiding his ex-colleague’s suspicious look. “Things are…different, these days. We work in separate departments and often don’t see one another for weeks at a time. It was almost three months before I discovered the anomaly, and since then, I haven’t had a moment’s rest trying to unravel it. I’ve studied every text I could lay my hands on, and believe me, Wolfram and Hart’s library is extensive. I’ve had so little sleep I can hardly think straight any more. I’ve even researched the possibility that there might be a prophecy concerning this. Although, I must admit, my track record concerning such things has been dubious at best, these past few years.”

“Still, you could use the friendship and guidance of your--”

“You’re the only person I’ve told, Giles,” he interrupted quickly. “I know it’s presumptuous of me to ask, but is it possible to request that we keep this…this inconvenience between the two of us. I’d rather prefer it if…” He trailed as the door suddenly burst wide and a torrent of Scoobies swarmed into the house. They froze when they saw the ex-watcher seated on the sofa. He cast an alarmed look in Giles’ direction and the older man offered him a reassuring nod. He breathed a sigh of relief. In his current state, Wesley knew that his tattled esteem couldn’t endure any further bruising right now, and questions and comments from the Slayer and her gang was the last thing he needed. 

“Just when we thought things couldn’t get any worse.” 

He turned at the sound of the voice and found Xander glaring in his direction. 

The young man rolled his remaining eye in annoyance. “It’s Wusley.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

*Jan 2004*

 

Lips. Cool demanding lips were caressing his. Wesley couldn’t believe this was happening. One minute he and Angel were sharing a moment of bonding at the bedside of their dearest friend. The next, Angel’s mouth was pressed against his, his body crushing Wesley into the cushions of the sofa. His heart beat madly in his ears. This wasn’t happening; it couldn’t be happening.

His thoughts spun wildly in his brain. He never imagined Angel would be pressed against him, kissing him with lips that were slowly warming beneath the heat of his own hungry mouth. When he first arrived in L.A., awkward, lonely and half starved, Wesley spent endless nights dreaming of such a moment. Indulging in the foolish fantasies of a young man blinded by devotion to a hero bigger than life, and waking up hard and wanting. But the years brought only disappointment and he learned to hide his feelings behind the façade of a steadfast companion. Eventually, he grew content to accept Angel as a friend and nothing more, and when he became the head of their team, his life finally gained purpose and meaning. Until that fateful night he threw it all away by betraying the one man who ever believed in him, and his life came tumbling down. Torn asunder from the light of his existence, he grew dark and cold, refusing to admit the depths of emotion he felt for the vampire, even to himself…

But Lilah knew. Deep down, she always knew. 

Wesley never dreamed that Angel could forgive him. Yet forgive him, he did. 

Now this….

Strong arms encircled him. The ever-rational part of his brain fought for control, arguing this shouldn’t be happening. It was wrong, immoral even. What would father think! He hadn’t been with a man in years, since university, in fact, and the lips claiming his were demanding, forcing his own mouth to part with an intensity he seldom encountered in the women he’d known. Lilah being a notable exception, which explained the depths of wild abandon in their relationship. His body craved the melding of power inherent in the passion between two men. 

But Angel was not a man.

Vampire.

Those silken lips were those of a predator and they were trailing over his skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. Across his jaw, downward toward the scar on his neck…

His throat!

Those lips were caressing his throat and he should have been terrified --- appalled. Generations of Watcher training, the legacy of his ancestors, screamed that it was sacrilege. But his body squirmed with wanton abandon, and a moan tore from his throat as he bared his neck for Angel’s advances, suddenly rock hard in his too tight jeans.

A chuckle drifted to his ears, beyond the rush of blood stealing his hearing.

He should have been disgusted with himself. A Watcher, even an ex-watcher, writhing in ecstasy beneath the lips of a cold, soulless demon. But Angel was not a soulless creature; his mind screamed as he pressed his throat toward the caress, demanding more contact. This was his Angel. His friend. The world be damned. He moaned as Angel complied with his demands and kissed the flesh, teasing, nipping at the scar that had been a constant reminder of Wesley’s shame for so long now that it was hard to believe Angel was actually touching him there. He thought he would die from the contact alone, arching up to press the length of his body against the heavier frame of the form holding him down, dying for even more contact, shameless in the sudden need that burned through him. Did Angel want it too? Everything was happening so fast. Too fast. It was impossible to know what Angel intended when he instigated this kiss.

Wesley felt like a slut, moaning beneath the crush, straining for more, unable to stop himself from crying out when the sweep of a tongue began to trace the contours of his scar. So chillingly close to almost certain death, locked in the embrace of a creature of the night who could drain his life in mere seconds. A creature who once threatened to snuff out his miserable existence with a pillow. He should be afraid. *Was* afraid. But it only heightened the desire burning through him. His body arched upward, straining for friction, and he was quickly rewarded by an aggressive thrust of Angel’s hips. 

The vampire was hard! 

The realization took his breath away. This was a dream. It had to be a dream. Moonlight spilled into the room, casting the walls in a bluish haze that added to the surrealism of the moment. Nothing seemed real anymore.

Suddenly, Angel’s lips were pressed against his ear. “Do you want this, Wes?”

His heart pounded in his head and he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He choked on his reply and Angel misinterpreted his silence as reluctance so he started to withdraw. Wesley grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “NO!….I mean, yes. *Yes.* I want this. ALL of it.”

Those wondrous lips found his once again and he moaned into the kiss, thrusting his tongue deep into Angel’s mouth, shamelessly grinding against him and reveling in the response as Angel thrust back. Reality melted into a blur of his hands tearing at the confines of Angel’s silk shirt. A broad expanse of breathtaking chest bathed in blue moonlight, swam into his field of vision, and Wesley was hardly aware that his own shirt was gone, pooled on the floor next to the sofa where he lay sprawled, a huge, handsome vampire pinning him down, dark eyes burning into his.

His heart beat madly in his chest, but the only sound between them was his own labored breath. Angel’s movements were eerily silent, the graceful stealth of a predator claiming its prey. It added to the excitation and he felt himself grow harder, his jeans painfully tight, but loving the sensation of such sweet agony. Angel’s hand snaked between their bodies, cupped Wesley’s erection and squeezed. 

“Oh, God!” 

He could easily come from this touch alone, much less the firm stroke of Angel’s skillful fingers rubbing, driving him insane. He thrust upward into the hand, not caring if he exploded then and there, humiliating himself. The touch that he longed for since the moment he hit L.A., and fell into the mesmerizing eyes of the only true champion he’d ever known, was all that mattered. His entire world narrowed to this one single moment in time and…

Angel’s touch.

The vampire could have struck him, beaten him senseless, and his touch would still be desired by the ex-watcher who writhed beneath him, feeling like a whore. In fact, if the experience did turn violent, he wouldn’t have the will to fight back. He’d waited for this so long that every fiber of his being cried out for this contact – any contact, even violence, and he’d been beaten under far less pleasurable circumstances than this, so that thought was no deterrent to the passion he felt.

The hand squeezed again and he cried out, suddenly aware of the stillness of the room and its slumbering occupant who lay unmoving on the bed, and the unlocked door. He should have been embarrassed, and might have been, before the year of darkness when fate and Lilah stole the last of his innocence, but embarrassment was the farthest thing from his mind as he arched into the hand stroking his erection, straining to break free from his jeans. He was close, dangerously close…. 

Suddenly, the hand was gone and he bit back a moan of frustration.

Angel pulled back; staring down at him with eyes that burned his skin as they slowly raked over the exposed lines of his chest glistened in sweat. Wesley suddenly felt naked, though Angel had seen his chest many times over the years, and he pulled in his breath, wondering what thoughts were hidden beneath that brooding brow.

“Angel?”

The ghost of a smile flickered through the pain deep in his dark eyes, and Wesley’s heart fluttered in response. He knew the vampire could sense the rhythm of his heart and that knowledge thrilled him. If he could ease the shadows of loss in Angel’s face, if only for a moment, he would gladly sell his soul. “Is something wrong?” he asked with sudden trepidation. 

Angel slowly shook his head. “Nothing that a few less clothes wouldn’t cure.” He reached for the snap on the ex-watcher’s jeans, tugged, and the sound echoed though the silent room as it snapped open. With a deft tug, jeans and shorts landed in a pile on the floor, and Wesley’s aching cock was bobbing free in the air. Angel’s clothes quickly followed, and Wesley almost gasped aloud at the beauty of the naked vampire poised above him. He reached up, pulled Angel’s head down and claimed his lips, arching up into his embrace. Suddenly, he wanted the vampire with a passion he never dreamed possible and he thrust his hips, the motion bringing their erections together in perfect alignment. He groaned when Angel returned the motion and their bodies fell into a forceful rhythm of aggressive strokes, their cocks trapped between them. The friction and the realization that it was Angel, *his* Angel, writhing against him, almost sent him over the edge. But Wesley held back; he wanted something more…

He wanted to fuck the vampire.

The realization stunned him with its intensity and he almost lost his rhythm. A year ago, there would have been no question of who would top. The reticent ex-watcher would never have had such thoughts or desires, but now things were different. *He* was different. The male aggression surging through his body took him by surprise. He wanted to bury himself deep within the other male’s body, pounding him hard into the sofa. He heard the low echo of a growl rising in the air, and was shocked to discover it was coming from his own throat. He nipped at the vampire’s lips, then surprised them both by shoving hard and rolling Angel, trapping him beneath him.

The vampire’s eyes widened when he found himself beneath the lean, aggressive body of a very horny ex-watcher. Slowly the astonishment faded and amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Very funny, Wes.”

“Not laughing.” His voice sounded husky to his ears as he stroked the length of his painful erection against his companion and forced his lips to the vampire’s mouth.

“Quit foolin’ around.” Angel hooked his leg over the back of Wesley’s, and with the effortless grace of a jungle cat, flipped them both back over.

Wesley was stunned to find himself trapped, once more, beneath his companion’s bulkier frame. Two dark eyes glimmered down at him in the dim light of the room, and he caught his breath. There was really no question of who would top. Still, male instinct waged a brief insurrection in his chest that he was forced to quell. Angel bent down, stealing his lips, and a moan tore from Wesley’s throat, disappointment quickly dissolving beneath the ministrations of a creature that had centuries of expertise at his disposal. Angel’s hand slipped between them and his fingers wrapped around the solid shaft of Wesley’s cock, melting the last of his resistance. He arched into the fist, groaning with pleasure. Angel stroked him with hard, firm jerks that brought him, again, to the edge of ecstasy. Moist lips found his ear and Angel rasped. “I want you, Wes, but I’ll stop if you want me to. I’ll bring you off then end it. I won’t push this further than you want.”

“No!” The word tore from his lips as he gasped for air, fighting to still the thrusting of his hips into the fist that was threatening to bring it all to an end. “I want you, Angel. I never meant to make you think that I didn’t. That is…if you still want me.”

“God, yes, I want you.” He relaxed his grip on the ex-watcher’s cock and ran a finger along its length to the base, cupping his balls and squeezing them lightly in his palm. Wesley squirmed beneath him and a grin tipped the corner of Angel’s mouth as he slowly brushed his fingers over the textured flesh of the perineum, coming to rest at the sensitive entrance to his body. 

Wesley trembled at the touch, catching his breath in anticipation. Angel pressed, gently at first, but when Wesley arched and rasped, “More,” Angel slipped his finger deep into the man’s body that eagerly accepted it, hips slamming upward into the touch. “Lord, yes.”

“I don’t have any lubricant.” Angel frowned in frustration. “I wasn’t exactly prepared for this. Considering it’s only been about a hundred years or so since--”

“Blood.” The word ripped from between his clinched teeth as he strained to force the finger deeper into the warmth of his body, needing more. Much more.

“Trust me, Wes, blood makes lousy lube…”

“Damn it, Angel. Just do it!” he snapped, sweat pouring from his brow. “Or pretty soon the point is going to be moot.”

The vampire nodded and raised his own wrist to his lips…

“No.” Wesley caught his attention, causing him to pause. “Mine. Take mine.”

Angel’s eyes widened in surprise and he started to shake his head.

“Mine…” Wesley repeated with a thrust of his hips, imbedding the finger deep inside and moaning at the sensation. He met Angel’s eyes with an impassioned gaze and offered his wrist. The one the vampire fed from the night on the boat when Wes retrieved him from Justine’s watery grave. “Please….I was so hard, so terribly hard that night. Surely you knew.”

The vampire swallowed, his eyes riveted on the offered wrist. The very one that nurtured him and saved his sanity, if not his life. The blood of his dearest friend. Raw lust sparked in the depths of his eyes locked on the scar traced along the man’s forearm, and he thrust his hand deeply into Wesley’s willing body, rewarded by the groans of pleasure torn from his lungs as he worked the burning entrance to his body, deeper and deeper still, another finger joining the first…

“Bloody hell, Angel, are you trying to kill me!” Wesley met the force of the vampire’s hand aggressively, pulling his long legs up and planting his feet firmly on the sofa’s edge to bear down on the hand with all his strength. “Would you bugger me, already, for Christ’s sake?”

The naked passion on the young man’s face and the urgency of his strong, lean body impelling himself on Angel’s hand was more than he could resist. 

“Take it!” Wesley held up his wrist, baring the forearm, his mind a blur of desire and memories of the vampire’s cool, demanding lips, suckling the life from his arm and leaving him hard, lonely and wanting. Tonight that longing would finally end. “Please.”

A primal roar ripped from the vampire’s lungs as he slipped into gameface. One hand still driving into the ex-watcher’s body, the other reaching forward and seizing the man’s arm, he brought the offered wrist to his mouth, squeezed his eyes shut and reverently traced the faint scar with his lips. “So long….so very, very long. You have no idea what you did to me that night, Wes. How I’ve longed for this moment night and day, since then.”

“What *I* did to you! Are you mad, Angel? I’ve almost gone insane wanting you since then.” Looking into the golden gaze beneath the ridged brow sent his heart racing wildly. Being this close to a real vampire in full gameface was an experience few watchers ever lived to tell about, but having that same vampire’s fingers buried deep inside one’s arse was way beyond the pale. He should have been terrified. *Was* terrified. But his cock only got harder and he arched his hips into the thrust of the hand. “I swear if you don’t get on with it, I’ll stake your sorry arse,” he hissed through gritted teeth. 

Angel chuckled deep in his throat and slowly began to lave the watcher’s arm as if savoring a delicacy. Then baring his fangs, he sank them deep into the flesh.

Wes’s body jerked and he cried out as a jolt of passion shot straight from his arm to his groin. He froze, mesmerized, and watched the vampire carefully withdraw his fangs, allowing the blood to pool. It glistened in the dim light of the room. Wesley’s labored breath rose to fill the hush that fell. He bit back his rising frustration as Angel leisurely scooped the blood into his hand and reached for his own aching member, coating it in red. “Angel…please.”

The vampire paused and grinned. “Has anyone ever told you, you’re pretty when you beg, Wes?”

The ex-watcher snarled and thrust his hips against the fingers buried deep inside, driving him insane. “Any minute now, this will all be over and *you* can bloody well take care of yourself,” he snipped.

Angel laughed, positioned himself against the entrance and pushed.

Pain fused with passion as Wesley met the push, bearing down hard. Angel was right, blood was a lousy lubricant, but he didn’t care. He’d waited for this moment forever. Dreamed of it day and night. Nothing could dull the ecstasy of finally being claimed by Angel. He arched madly into the slam of Angel’s body bearing down on his. He wrapped his long legs around the broad shoulders and reveled in the thrill of being filled beyond endurance.

He wouldn’t last long. *Couldn’t* last long. It was more perfect than he ever imagined, being wanted by the object of his adoration. A strangled cry rose from his throat and he met the vampire thrust for thrust. *His* vampire. *His* Angel. If he died here and now, his world would be complete. Beyond the painful legacy of endless mistakes, Wesley finally belonged. If only for tonight. 

Angel slammed into him, pounding with deep, penetrating strokes that almost drove him wild, the sofa threatening to collapse beneath their straining bodies. Wesley groaned and arched, driving Angel deeper and angling until each thrust hit just the right spot….

A cry ripped from his lungs and he almost laughed out loud at the thought of an orderly or two racing into the room to check out the disturbance. Thank god for the exclusive nature of the clientele that could afford the luxury of such a place. No one ever asked questions or disturbed the patient’s quests. Wesley moaned and thrust harder, Angel buried deeper than he ever thought possible. 

The vampire reached between their sweat drenched bodies, grasped Wes’s cock, and began to stroke the swollen flesh with firm, rapid jerks as he pounded into him.

It was all Wesley needed to push him over the edge. He arched, head thrown back as a wave of passion shot down his spine and erupted through every nerve of his body. He roared his release and exploded into the vampire’s fist, collapsing as the last of his energy drained away, leaving him spent beneath his companion who quickly followed suit, thrusting madly until he, too, tumbled over the edge of reality and collapsed, slipping down to Wesley’s side and drawing him near to spoon against him on the close confines of the sofa.

For a moment, Wesley lay dazed, barely aware of Angel’s arms wrapped around him, holding him near. Then slowly he caught his breath as the world fell into focus and the reality of what just happened settled into his frazzled mind. Angel was molded into the contours of his back, holding him close and causing Wesley’s heart to race. What would happen now, he wondered with sudden trepidation. Could he turn to face his companion? 

Suddenly, Angel leaned up on his elbow and gently pressed a kiss on the back of the ex-watcher’s neck.

Wesley breathed a sigh of relief as his heart melted. He closed his eyes and nuzzled closer to the object of his dreams. For the first time in the young man’s life everything was perfect….

Until he woke up alone.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

*July 2004*

 

Wesley knew how Buffy felt. 

It was a strange realization, and one he never thought to have, that he would ever have anything in common with his impetuous ex-slayer. But as he lay, curled tightly into himself, struggling to fall asleep, the thought came unbidden into his weary brain, that he and Buffy both knew what it was like to wake up abandoned the morning after the greatest night of their lives.

Or course, he was not a young, impressionable teenage girl, so the comparison was flimsy at best, but at three in the morning on yet another sleepless night, the irony of the situation was too much to resist. He would have laughed out loud if he could have summoned the strength. Still, somehow he doubted that Buffy would have found any humor in the comparison if she were aware of the situation. Their relationship was precarious at best in Sunnydale, and since he arrived in Cleveland four weeks ago, the best she could offer was an occasional grunt in his direction. He had no doubt that even a hint of his brief interlude with Angel would be enough to send the young Slayer over the edge. She tolerated Wesley’s presence because she had no choice when taking care of Dawn and rebuilding her life was all she could currently handle. She had no energy left to argue with Giles about the fact that Wesley was now a part of their group of refugees. 

Wes, too, had all that he could handle, guarding his secret while attempting to research the anomaly. He was meeting with different mystics almost every night to acquire yet more parchments that he poured over until the wee hours of the morning when he would nod off and be coaxed into bed by Giles. Juggled with that, was his attempt to do his fair share among the group by assisting the elder ex-watcher with the newly activated Slayers who, for the most part, were still confused but surprisingly much more amenable to instruction than his first two Slayers had been. 

These girls seemed hungry and eager to learn how to hone their newly acquired skills. When working with the girls, Wesley could almost forget the last few years of his life were such an utter disaster, when for the first time in his life, he was actually utilizing the skills he’d spent a lifetime acquiring but never been allowed to use. At least this part of his “Cleveland Adventure” was rewarding. 

He sometimes found himself believing he might actually find a place among these tattered heroes, especially with Giles who seemed to genuinely appreciate his assistance. As the older ex-watcher often pointed out, they were a rare breed, two of the few remaining watchers in the world. Their wisdom and knowledge would be invaluable to the many activated Slayers currently in existence who would be lost and alone, searching for answers. 

Answers. If only their experience and knowledge could find the answers to help him understand his current condition. Giles felt it was essential that they remove the child before it was too late…

Child.

Wesley caught his breath and instinctively his hand slipped to the slightly rounded swelling of his abdomen. In the six months since its inception, he never thought of the entity as a child. It was a foolish thought that slipped into his mind without his being aware. It couldn’t possibly be anything more than an anomaly that should have been removed weeks ago when he first arrived if they could have found a way. Time was running out and Giles was growing more and more worried as the days went by…

A child.

No. This wasn’t a child. It was a *thing.* He had to remain objective. The likelihood of this being a normal human child was as slim as the possibility that either of Cordelia’s paranormal pregnancies could have resulted in normal offspring. He shuddered at the memory of Jasmine and the effects of her tragic aftermath on his beloved friend. Still, Cordelia fought to protect the entity growing within her womb, despite the danger to everyone around her. Any such anomalous conception had to be demonically induced in some manner, thus the offspring growing within him had to be evil…

Angel had a son that was a normal human child.

The memory tore into his heart, bringing with it the image of a tiny, trusting infant, his wide blue eyes staring upward with pure innocence. Wesley’s chest tightened with pain. He tried not to think of Angel’s lost son. The son he cost his dearest friend. But sometimes the memories rose to haunt him. That baby was perfectly normal as far as they were ever able to determine. Despite Wesley’s own insistence that the child should be destroyed in the womb. Was it possible that this entity within him could be normal, as well? It too, might very well be Angel’s child.

NO.

He had to stop such thoughts before they drove him insane. This was NOT Angel’s child. Such a thing simply wasn’t possible. Two men could not reproduce. It had to be a sick, twisted coincidence. Even if some malevolent force had managed to use their brief union as the catalyst for this conception, it still wasn’t possible for this child to be Angel’s. Wesley fought madly against such thoughts, knowing they would only drive him insane. He had enough to worry about without considering such nonsense. 

This was NOT Angel’s child. And he, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, was not Darla. Nor was he Buffy. In fact, he was no one that Angel had ever, or would ever, love. If anything, their relationship had grown cold after that night. Waking up alone, it was days before he saw the vampire again then only to be greeted by a mere casual nod as they passed at the office. The “incident” was never mentioned again. 

This was not a “child,” created by a very special union on some mystical night. The ever-rational part of his brain, steeped in Watcher lore, cautioned against the weakness of such sentimentality. He mustn’t be blinded by emotion. Even now, he could hear his father’s voice echoing in his mind. “A Wyndam-Pryce does not indulge in fantasies or romanticism.” His stomach grew queasy at the thought of what his father’s impression would be of his current blunder. Not only finding himself hopelessly enamored with a member of his own gender, but a vampire, no less. It would be impossible to sink any lower into complete moral degradation. 

Buggered by a vampire.

In his younger years, his father once caught rumors of a boyhood infatuation he’d developed with a fellow student at school; not an uncommon occurrence at an all male institution, and one that most adults would pass off as a “phase.” Consisting of nothing more than tentative touches and stolen kisses. But the senior Wyndam-Pryce was outraged that his son was all doe-eyed over another lad, and confronted him on the matter. Young Wesley was brash enough to actually defend himself, going so far as to reasonably point out that in matters of natural magic, sexual practices with partners of the same gender were not only common, but essential. His father exploded, countering that the casting of spells and indulging in lurid carnal acts on par with bestiality were quite different matters.

Young Master Wesley was unable to sit comfortably for the next week and was barred from ever associating with the chap in question again. 

After that, an endless parade of “suitable” young ladies became a constant in the young man’s life as he fell into the mold his father demanded for a young man of his family’s status. Wesley was determined to become the perfect son, the perfect student, the perfect Head Boy, and the perfect Watcher. 

Then Angel walked into his life.

Wesley squeezed his eyes shut and curled even tighter into himself. He had to shut out these irrational thoughts and try to get some sleep. Giles was up late, still researching downstairs in the study, but he insisted Wesley head on up to the bedroom they shared to try and get some rest. He owed it to the older ex-watcher to do just that.

Tomorrow, Giles had requested that he try to make “first contact” with a possible young Slayer across town. It was a tricky assignment, as they never knew how any initial contact with one of these young women might go. Wesley really needed his sleep. 

This wasn’t a child growing inside him. It was a thing. A creature they needed to identify, understand and destroy before it was too late. And most of all…

It wasn’t a child he conceived with Angel.

Firm in his conviction, Wesley finally managed to slip into a troubled, restless sleep, but his arms were cradling the gentle swell of his abdomen.


	3. 3/11

*~*~*~*~**

Paddington Bear was staring Wesley right in the eyes.

He was passing through the aisles of the department store when he turned and found himself face-to-face with the stuffed bear. For all his many years as a professional demon hunter, the toy startled him, and he let out an unmanly yelp. Paddy stared back, a look of wide-eyed innocence on his fuzzy face beneath the jaunty hat. For a moment, Wesley stood staring at the precocious little bear cloaked in his signature blue coat, and the whisper of a smile touched his mouth as a memory drifted into his mind of his own Paddington, years before. One of the few indulgences he was allowed as a child. He had all the books and read them clandestinely by torchlight beneath the sheets long after his parents had gone to bed. 

The memory was buried deep beneath years of disappointments and life’s obligations. Strange how one small, inquisitive bear with a penchant for marmalade and misadventure could bring back a torrent of nostalgia. For a moment, he found himself whisked back to a time and place far removed from the harsh reality of his life today. Where life’s solutions were as simple as the gentle press of mum’s lips on a fevered brow. The innocence of childhood. His was so painfully brief. As a child, he vowed that when the time came, his own children would know the comfort of unconditional acceptance and love. A word never spoken in the Wyndam-Pryce household…

His own child. 

Wesley caught his breath and quickly tore his mind from such thoughts. There was a time he foolishly envisioned himself settling down with Winifred as the perfect mother for his children, but that fantasy went the way of most of his daydreams and he was fast accepting the reality that he would never know the warmth and love of a family with children nestled on his lap, next to a roaring fireplace on a cold winter’s eve. 

“Hey, Watcher Boy, if that thing’s not possessed by a demon that needs exorcised, we need to get a move on. Time’s a wastin’.”

Wesley gave a start and turned at the sound of the voice. Xander was standing behind him, regarding him with a puzzled expression on his face. Although he was growing accustomed to the dark patch covering the young man’s eye, he still found it disconcerting at times. Xander looked past his shoulder at the stuffed bear sitting atop a display of Paddington nursery accessories, crib sheets and comforters, and a frown creased his brow. He returned his attention to a slightly flustered Wesley, and looked as if he were going to make another snippy remark then decided against it. 

Wesley suddenly felt uneasy beneath the boy’s probing stare. “Right, then.” He cleared his throat. “We’d best locate Ms. Martin. She works in this department, so she must be around here somewhere.”

He glanced around the section. “Infants and toddlers,” A sign read over a display of strollers and car seats on their right. To their left, racks of tiny clothes, miniature versions of sweat suits in soothing pastels, and little shirts bearing an assortment of logos, lined the racks of infant wear. Wesley’s eyes lingered on the display a moment longer than necessary, again drawing a bewildered look from his wisecracking companion. Wesley quickly looked away. “If our information is correct, Ms. Martin might be a newly activated Slayer who could use our help,” he said to fill the sudden silence.

“Wes-man, stating the obvious there, aren’t you? That’s why we call this ‘initiating first contact.’ We let them know we exist and that we’re here to help if they want us to. If they don’t, well, that’s their business. Anyway, let’s get on with this. I, for one, would like to get home and hit the sack. Some of us have jobs to go to in the morning, you know.”

“Indeed. I’m aware that you’re employed, Xander, as you’re constantly reminding us. If it’s any consolation, I, too, will soon be gainfully employed. I shall be working with Giles at the Ukrainian Museum Archives. So you needn’t fret that you, Rupert and Wood will be supporting the group indefinitely.”

“Let’s just hope this newest Slayer doesn’t want to move in. Wood and I already have Andrew and five of the girls at our house and I’m guessing you people don’t have any more room at your place. I know it’s selfish, but in a way, I’m glad that Faith decided to move on shortly after we arrived. There’s just no room left at the Harris Inn or Chateau Giles. It sort of depressed Robin for a while, but he’s gettin’ over it. You know, he’s not half bad once you get to know him.”

Wesley turned and stared at the young man for a moment, amazed that it seemed as if they were actually having a civil conversation. It felt…nice. The last four weeks of total alienation and open animosity from the group made the strain of everything else he was dealing with almost unbearable. “Yes, Robin does seem a rather pleasant fellow. You say, he misses Faith?” His Rogue ex-Slayer was already gone before he arrived in Cleveland. A fact for which he was secretly grateful. 

Xander nodded. “They had a brief thing back in Sunnydale. But I won’t hold that against him.” He added with a chuckle. “Our little Faith gets around. I guess if you think about it, Rob and I have that in common. Although you could say my fling with Faith was a little briefer, seeing’s how she tried to kill me the second time. Funny how attempted strangulation can put a damper on things. That’s a little too kinky even for me. And believe me, I know kinky. After the last few years with Anya, kinky and I are on a first name basis…” He suddenly trailed, realizing that he mentioned his ex-fiancé’s name. Since her death, he seldom spoke of her, and never to Wesley. He paled slightly and looked away.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them that Wesley felt he needed to fill, but he wasn’t certain that anything he had to say would be welcome. Xander suffered a tragic loss and he didn’t want to make matters worse by saying the wrong thing, and on a purely selfish level, he hated to shatter the closest thing they’d had to a civil conversation since he got here. “I’m sorry,” he offered softly, hoping it wouldn’t sound empty. 

The young man shrugged and looked aside. “Occupational hazard. Lose an eye. Lose a girl. Same difference.”

Wesley found himself at a loss. Even at the best of times, strong emotions were difficult for him to deal with. But it seemed wrong to ignore the pain the young man was clearly hiding behind his false levity. “Sometimes life just sucks.” The words slipped from his mouth before he stopped to think about it and Xander looked surprised by the comment.

“Somehow that’s the last thing I expected to hear coming out of that Pierce Brosnan mouth of yours.” A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “But you have gotten a little scruffier since the ole’ SunnyHell days. I guess Deadboy’s rubbed off on you a little over the years.”

The mention of Angel took him off-guard and a flush of heat touched his cheeks. Xander noticed and looked puzzled by the reaction. “You and Angel have a falling out before you came up here? Cause if you did, that’s a plus in my camp.”

Wesley shook his head. A falling out would have been a step up from the total indifference of the last few months. Since their night together, Angel hadn’t given him the time of day. He could only conclude that a moment of vulnerability caused the vampire to make a mistake that he immediately regretted. Much like the kiss he shared with Cordy in Sunnydale. It was the story of his life.

Xander stood watching him closely. Too closely. So when Wesley caught movement from the corner of his eye, he quickly turned in the direction of an approaching sales associate, noting that her nametag read, “Rebecca Martin.” He swept past Xander and over to the petite young brunette who offered him a bright smile.

“Can I help you?” she asked. 

Wesley hesitated, then decided that the best approach was the direct approach. “Ms. Martin, you may find this somewhat difficult to believe but--” He trailed when the girl’s eyes grew wide and she took a step back. He held out his hands. “I assure you, there’s no need to be alarmed. My associate and I…”

“Mister, there’s a vampire behind you!”

In that instant, Wesley was seized from behind by two strong hands and whirled around, bringing him face-to-face with a snarling vampire. Struggling in its grip, he reached for the stake concealed in his jacket and fought to remove it. As he tried to catch his balance to withdraw the weapon, the world erupted around them. Two leather-clad vampires leaped from behind the sales racks, one dove toward Xander, the second, toward the young sales clerk who screamed and grabbed a small wooden lamp from a display of nursery accessories. She whacked the lamp on the checkout counter, breaking off the shade and leaving a jagged wooden end, that she threatened her vampire with. 

As Wesley wrestled with the vampire who’d taken him by surprise, he caught sight of Xander struggling with another vamp, stake in hand, among the racks of infant wear. The young man was holding his own, despite the loss of perception due to the patch.

Wesley finally got his hand firmly on the stake in his jacket and managed to free the weapon, but his vampire was strong and already had a firm hold on his shoulders, its fangs mere inches from his face. Its breath was putrid and he struggled not to lose his dinner as he fought the vicious creature. Using all his strength, he shoved the vamp, trying to wedge enough distance between them to get a clear shot of its chest, but it was like slamming his fists against solid rock. 

The vampire grinned; its fangs making it look like a demented jack-o-lantern. It lunged for his throat, and he dodged backward, kicking out and managing to catch the creature in the knee. The impact knocked it off balance and sent it sprawling into a display of stuffed bears that went tumbling. It was the opening Wesley needed. He raised his stake, lunged and drove the point home. The astonished vamp erupted in a cloud of ash, coating both Wesley and the haphazardly strewn Paddington bears who watched the fiasco with wide, curious eyes. He caught his breath and brushed off the dust even as he heard Ms. Martin’s vampire meet a similar fate. It was safe to assume Rebecca Martin was more than aware of the existence of creatures of the night. 

The clatter of a rack of clothes hitting the floor drew his attention and he turned in time to see Xander deliver another kick to the remaining vampire’s chest. The vampire stumbled backward and Xander advanced for the kill, stake held high, when suddenly, the creature caught its balance and lunged, knocking Xander off his feet. He went sprawling, his stake flying from his hand and disappearing under a stack of boxes. The vampire landed on his chest hissing, its fangs at his throat.

Stake in hand, Wesley rushed toward the creature pinning a struggling Xander. He raised his stake, aimed and plunged the weapon into the vampire’s back, holding his breath beneath the onslaught of yet another cloud of ash as it rose around them. Xander blinked up at him with his remaining eye and grimaced at the dust settling on his face. When the air cleared, Wesley reached down to lend him a hand, but Xander hesitated as if uncertain whether or not to accept the man’s hand, and an awkward silence fell between them. The ex-watcher started to withdraw the offer when Xander gave him a stiff nod, reached up and took his hand, allowing Wesley to pull him to his feet.

“Thanks.” Xander brushed the dust from his shirt. “You don’t fight half bad. Actually, you’re kinda scary when you get going.”

“It was nothing.” Wesley shrugged.

Xander offered him the hint of a smile and Wesley returned it with a reserved one of his own. To all outward appearances their exchange held little meaning, but Wesley’s heart was pounding in his ears. The Scooby had actually paid him a compliment. 

He cleared his throat and turned to face the young Slayer who stood watching them from among a dust covered scattering of stuffed bears, baby clothes and comforters. She obviously already knew about vampires. It was time for her to learn about Watchers. 

Wesley started toward her and suddenly froze.

The young woman caught the expression on his face and frowned. “Are you alright, Mister?”

Wesley’s eyes grew wide and it was all he could do to keep from collapsing in shock as the sensation washed over him a second time. “My lord,” he breathed. “It moved.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

“We have to get that thing out of you.”

Rupert’s voice cut through the turmoil in his mind, and Wesley looked up from where he sat at the foot of the bed mesmerized by the weave of the multi-colored rug on the hardwood floor. “I suppose you’re right,” he answered softly.

“Of course I’m right! We shouldn’t have let this thing go on as long as it has. If I’d been able to establish more contacts in this city sooner, we might have been able to get additional outside advice before now. But the underground communities around here are a lot harder to gain access to than back in Sunnydale or L.A. They’re far more clandestine. Most of the families here are old and don’t trust outsiders. But I think I’ve finally gained the confidence of a very reputable mystic healer outside Lincoln Park who might be able to offer us greater insight on this matter. He’s a human doctor but he practices medicine among the demon community. You need medical advice as well as mystic advice and we can’t risk taking you to see a conventional doctor.”

“A doctor?” He responded vaguely as Giles’ words slowly penetrated the fog in his brain. “Yes…of course, you’re correct. This man is a doctor, you say?” 

He nodded. “Aren’t you listening? This thing’s been growing inside of you for over six months, if the calculations of the mystics you’ve consulted are anywhere near correct, since you have no way of knowing for certain when this occurred or what might have precipitated it.”

Wesley’s eyes hardened then shifted aside and he studied the rug. “Maybe Cordelia had something to do with it,” he said quietly, his mind struggling for answers. “We spent so much time with her, in her room. Maybe there’s a mystic aura around her since the powers used her to bring Jasmine into the world. We spent hours at her bedside, each of us. I evoked the mercies of every deity you can imagine while I was at her bedside, in their native languages no less. Perhaps one of them misinterpreted my pleas. Or perhaps, merely grew impatient or annoyed.”

The elder watcher looked dismayed. “If we’re dealing with something of that nature this might be more complicated than a mere spell or incantation. Ancient deities, even those of lesser importance, can possess great power. Ancient gods who’ve been ignored for thousands of years are sometimes extremely receptive to being addressed in their native tongues. I know you wanted to study this phenomena, I admit I share your curiosity as well as your desire to find a means of extracting it that doesn’t entail the danger of actual surgery, but we must do something.”

Wesley nodded numbly, still staring at the floor. “Of course you’re correct. I tried every Shaman in Southern California before coming here, and they were powerless to help me.”

“At the very least, we’ll be able to gain a little more insight into how this is affecting you physically. If you were a woman experiencing a normal pregnancy you’d be monitored on a regular basis. As it is, we have no idea how this thing is affecting your health.”

“Several healers examined me thoroughly about three months ago, but I couldn’t risk consulting a conventional doctor.”

“Understandable. I could just see the headlines blazed across the front page of the sun. That sort of publicity we don’t need. How’ve you been feeling lately?”

“Fine, for the most part. Actually better than those first few months when nothing would stay down. A little more hungry than usual, but I haven’t gained any weight since this fiasco began, lost a few pounds, in fact. I don’t feel sick but I’m exhausted all the time.”

“Sounds eerily like a normal human pregnancy. You aren’t showing. That’s a bit uncommon, but as tall as you are, I don’t suppose that’s too unusual.” He moved closer to the bed and studied the young man more closely. His eyes fell to Wes’s abdomen covered by a loose fitting button-up shirt left untucked in a casual manner unthinkable back in his Sunnydale days when the two men first met. 

“You can’t see it!” Wesley snapped, the venom in his tone shocking them both. “I…I, Giles, I’m terribly sorry.” He quickly added. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to be rude. I don’t know why I reacted that way.” He didn’t feel at all like himself these days, at least, not the person he’d become in the last few years in L.A. Instead, he felt more like the stammering, insecure young man who first arrived in the States years ago. What was happening to him? Was it a side effect of the entity growing inside of him?

Taken aback at first by the outburst, Giles soon recovered and had a seat next to him on the bed. “It’s all right. I understand. You’re under a great deal of stress. More than I could ever imagine. Being stared at is bound to make you uncomfortable. If it’s any consolation, it doesn’t show. As tall as you are, you could probably carry to term without anyone being any the wiser….” He sputtered into silence when he realized what he’d said, then hurried to add, “Not that that’s even remotely a consideration. We’ll find a way to reverse this condition, or if worse comes to worse, extract it. I’m hoping this healer will be able to offer us some insight. He’s agreed to see us tomorrow morning and we’re fortunate to have gotten an appointment this quickly. His clientele is pretty exclusive. It’s in an older part of town not far from the museum, so we can stop by on the way into work.”

The words jumbled together in Wesley’s head, drumming into the background of his mind. And he squeezed his eyes shut. “I assure you, Rupert, I have every intention of continuing to assist you with the Slayers, despite this, this…. situation. You needn’t worry that I’ll become lax in my responsibilities. These girls need our guidance, actually want it, for the most part. I won’t let any of you down.”

“Wesley, I don’t believe I’ve given you any indication that I thought you would let us down.” The older man sounded confused. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I’m concerned for your welfare, and I’ll do anything I can to help you though this. But on the upside, you’re an asset to the team. I’ll admit at first I was a bit put out that you showed up on our doorstep. Your timing was lousy, but now I’m really glad you’re here. I miss having the companionship of not only another adult but a fellow Watcher….eh, ex-watcher, as well. And the girls have all responded quite well to your instruction. I’m really glad you showed up. L.A.’s loss is the Hellmouth’s gain. As things heat up around here, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Wesley nodded but didn’t turn to look at his companion. “Thank you. You’ll never know how much I appreciate this. You’re correct that things are soon going to heat up around here. With the other Hellmouth permanently closed, this is going to become a cauldron before too long. Ms. Martin, my contact last night, was already all too aware of the existence of vampires around her. On the positive side, I believe she’ll make an excellent Slayer. She has first-rate reflexes and was most receptive to my introduction. She wants to learn more about her legacy and her calling. I’m going to meet with her again in a few nights at her place of employment and fill her in on a few things. Hopefully, the experience will be a bit less exciting than last night’s adventure. She’s very concerned about the possibility of losing her job.”

“I can understand that. I’m pleased to hear that she seems to be trying to maintain as normal a life as possible under the circumstances. Too many of these young girls we’ve discovered drop out of the mainstream of life when they come into their powers. We need all the team members we can get, but we don’t need to open a commune. One of the tragedies of the old Slayer/Watcher relationship was the total isolation it imposed on the girls. We’re going to change that archaic practice. These girls deserve the chance to live as normal a life as possible. Buffy is finally getting that chance, and I intend to do everything in my power to insure that as much of the burden as possible is off her shoulders. As far as I’m concerned, Buffy has done her fair share of saving this miserable planet. Since she and Willow enrolled in the university, she spends far more time studying than patrolling, and we’re going to keep it that way.”

“She does seem more at peace with herself these days.” Wesley agreed. Even if her intolerance of his presence was much the same as it ever was, he was pleased to see that Buffy was finally being allowed to realize some of her dreams. He recalled her desire to attend university when she was a senior in high school and how appalled he’d been at the thought of a Slayer having the audacity to consider such a thing. He’d been such a prat. It was a wonder she didn’t pummel him into a pulp. “Buffy has earned the distinction of being the first Slayer to actually retire. I--” A flutter of movement passed through his stomach and he pulled in his breath. 

Giles gave him a curious look. “Are you all right?”

Wesley sat for a moment in stunned silence, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions and sensations suddenly assaulting him. 

“Wes?”

He opened his mouth to respond when again the flutter moved through him. A wave of emotion followed in its wake, and he swallowed hard. “Rupert.” His voice was so low that Giles had to strain to hear it. “Are we doing the right thing, disposing of this, this…life?”

Giles responded without a moment’s hesitation. “Absolutely.” 

 

*~*~*~*~*

Doctor Anatole Kyarsky was a small, elderly man with glasses so thick they distorted his eyes, giving him the appearance of a demented owl when he squinted at the two men as they entered his cluttered, makeshift office situated in the front portion of his small home off Lincoln Park. He muttered something in broken English that Wesley couldn’t quite catch, then puttered off, darting around the office with the nervous energy of a man half his age, gathering a stethoscope, a hypodermic and a few assorted items, before ushering them past piles of books into an adjoining room where he indicated they should have a seat.

Removing a stack of notebooks from two orange plastic chairs, the two men sat down in what Wesley noted was the doctor’s equivalent of an examination room, complete with a sheet-draped table. The place did nothing to instill a sense of ease, and Wesley found himself poised on the edge of his seat as if ready to dart from the room at a moment’s notice. He cast a look in Giles’ direction and noted that his fellow ex-watcher had settled back into his chair without the least bit of trepidation, so he tried to relax, settling back and studying his surroundings.

The doctor moved around the room, setting things up. All the while muttering under his breath. Wesley could discern the word, “Human,” but little else. Finally Kyarsky ceased his perpetual motion and moved to stand facing them, squinting at Wesley with an intensity that unnerved him. He shifted uneasily in the uncomfortable plastic chair and tried to meet the stare behind the coke-bottle glasses without looking away.

“This is the patient. Yes?” 

He wasn’t sure who the doctor was addressing the question to, but Giles quickly answered in the affirmative, thus relieving him of the need to decide whether or not to respond. 

Kyarsky leaned closer. “Human, Yes? Male?”

Wesley nodded numbly to both questions, totally unprepared for the bluntness of the next one.

“Pregnant?”

The word hit him like a ton of bricks and he choked on his reply. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say…that is to say, I wouldn’t exactly…”

“There’s an entity growing inside of him that we’ve been unable to identify.” Giles promptly came to his rescue. “We would like to find out how it’s affecting him, and hopefully, a non surgical method of removing it, since every shaman we’ve consulted has informed us that if we attempt to breach the integrity of the aura surrounding it, Wesley will die.”

Kyarsky’s eyes never wavered from their unsettling probe of Wesley. Without so much as a flicker of acknowledgment in Giles’ direction he continued his questioning. “You have had sex with a demon, yes?”

“What!” He gasped then sputtered in shock. “I mean…no. A demon? No.”

“Perhaps a visit to a demon brothel that you are reluctant to speak of …” His eyes finally acknowledged Giles’ presence, flickering in his direction then back to probe Wesley’s face. “In front of your boyfriend.”

“No.” He adamantly shook his head. This situation was getting more bizarre by the minute. “And Rupert…Mr. Giles is not my boyfriend. We’re associates, nothing more.” He caught his breath and responded firmly. “I haven’t been to any demon brothels *ever*, I assure you.”

“It was important that I ask. These things happen, you know. Some demons implant their offspring in the unsuspecting bodies of different species. They establish a parasitic relationship with the host, but are the offspring of the demon alone, containing none of the DNA of its host. It is not a true pregnancy. I will have to examine you and take blood samples if I am to get any idea of what’s going on inside of you. I must determine if it is a parasitic relationship or a child you might have created with another creature.”

“Excuse me, Doctor,” Giles interrupted firmly. “We’ve already established the fact that Wesley is male, therefore this can’t be a pregnancy in the conventional sense.”

“The conventional sense, no. But that does not mean that it isn’t possible.”

Wesley felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into a bad dream that he couldn’t wake up from. “You’ve encountered something like this before?” He heard himself ask with growing dread.

The doctor nodded. “It is rare.” Was all he said.

With that he turned away and began puttering around the room once more. Wesley turned troubled eyes in Giles’ direction, but the older man’s face betrayed nothing of what he was thinking as he sat watching the doctor move around the room.

“I must examine you.” Kyarsky abruptly paused and produced a paper gown that Wesley found thrust into his face. 

He swallowed hard and reached out to take the garment. 

Kyarsky turned his eyes in Giles’ direction. “He may stay or go as you wish. It is up to you.”

Wesley was seized with the irrational desire to beg the elder ex-watcher to stay. But he knew the impulse was childish and totally inappropriate. Still, when he glanced in Giles’ direction, his companion’s expression told him that he would have stayed in an instant if Wesley wanted him to. He was grateful for the knowledge. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, why he felt so insecure and *needy*. It was embarrassing. But since arriving in Cleveland, it was as if years of hardened resolve had melted away, leaving him vulnerable in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be in more years than he cared to remember. 

“I may have to ask you questions you may find uncomfortable answering in front of your….friend.” Kyarsky cast a look in Giles’ direction that conveyed his doubts the two men were merely colleagues.

Wesley gave Giles a reluctant nod, indicating it was all right to leave him alone with the doctor.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Wesley expected the man’s hands to be cold, but was surprised to find them warm and pleasantly soft as they moved purposely over his body.

“Don’t have many human patients,” Kyarsky mumbled. “Don’t like humans much. Prefer demons.”

Wesley sat stiffly on the edge of the examination table and said nothing as the doctor reached inside the ridiculously scant paper gown and ran his hand over his chest, pausing at a nipple and squeezing. Surprised, he jerked in pain, almost coming off the table.

“Sensitive?”

That was an understatement. He nodded.

“It is normal.” Kyarsky explained. “Although it is doubtful you will be able to breastfeed.”

“Doctor…pardon me, but it seems you’re going on about this as if…well, as if it were a normal pregnancy that I was considering taking to term. If you don’t mind my saying, I find that a bit disconcerting.”

“In my profession, nothing is beyond the realm of possibility, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I deal with demons and mixed human/demon pregnancies all the time. Nothing surprises me.”

“But this is hardly the same.” He protested lamely as the doctor motioned for him to lie back. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Demon/human hybrids are much more common than you might realize, and for the most part, I have learned not to hold their human side against them.”

Wesley found himself at a loss for words not for the first time since meeting Kyarsky as he allowed the doctor to part the gown, exposing the rounded swell of his abdomen that was usually concealed beneath his loose shit. With surprisingly gentle hands, he probed the hard mound. Wesley watched him closely. Reluctant to spend much time studying his bizarrely changing body on his own, he seldom looked at the growing mound that had once been muscular and flat. It wasn’t too horrible to look at, and yet…

He turned away unable to continue looking.

“You say, you believe it has been over six months since you had sex with the demon?”

Wesley gave a start and turned back to face the doctor. “I never said…”

“It’s all right,” Kyarsky said softly, his hands resting gently on the swell of Wesley’s stomach. He met the young man’s eyes and continued in an even tone. “You and I are alone. Your friend is in the waiting room. I think there is something you want to tell me.”

“It isn’t relevant! It can’t possibly be. It isn’t possible!” The words rushed from his mouth.

“You will let me be the judge of what is relevant, Mr. Pryce.” His hand began to move in a gentle pattern over Wesley’s stomach in a motion that was surprisingly soothing to his frayed nerves. “You must cooperate with me if I am to help you. I noticed that your friend is somewhat dogmatic in his opinions. I sense that you worry what he will think of you, but he isn’t here right now.”

“I-had-sex-with-a-vampire.” He confessed in a jumble of words strung together in a rush. “But it’s impossible for there to be any correlation between my…my encounter with Angel and…*this.*”

“Anything is possible.” The doctor repeated to Wesley’s growing dismay as he resumed his examination. “You are a man whose life is steeped in magic. I’ve heard of Watchers, and Giles assures me yours is an ancient line. Magic surrounds such ancient lines. Perhaps a part of you willed the forces that surround you to cause this to happen. I’ve encountered such things before.”

Wesley gasped and fought to sit up, but Kyarsky held him back. “You’re wrong. I would never want something as twisted as this to happen. It’s simply not possible; this can’t be Angel’s child!”

“I’m not saying that it is. But I am saying it bears consideration. From what I’ve seen thus far, your body’s reactions are typical of a normal six-month pregnancy. I will check your blood samples and if you wish, attempt to retrieve amniotic fluid from the fetus as well.” 

Wesley’s head began to spin and he felt himself grow faint. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. 

“Would you like to see your child?”

The words penetrated the fog in his brain but he couldn’t respond.

“I can perform a sonogram when I’m finished with my examination, if you like.”

Wesley couldn’t form the words to respond. His mouth had gone dry and his tongue felt like lead. 

The doctor didn’t wait for a reply but went on with his poking and prodding as if this were an everyday event. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to give birth in the conventional, human manner or not, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Excuse me!” Wesley finally found his voice. “I should think that that would be rather apparent as I’m clearly lacking a birth canal.”

“Mr. Pryce.” The doctor paused and regarded his patient with exaggerated calm. “At this point, we don’t know what you do or don’t have. Your body has already been altered to accommodate the child. Further examination will tell me to what extent.” 

“Further?” He repeated lamely.

“Internal.”

The doctor pushed him back despite his protests. “I hardly think this is necessary. I…”

“You really must cooperate if you want me to help you. I assure you, it’s just a bit uncomfortable but it won’t hurt.”

“Really, Doctor, I don’t think…”

“You are not here to think. You are here to relax. If I am to help you and your baby--”

“It isn’t a baby, goddamn it!” He erupted, his voice cracking.

The doctor froze.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them while Wesley struggled to catch his breath. He averted his eyes, suddenly embarrassed by the inappropriateness of his outburst. He wasn’t feeling at all like himself these days. He’d endured examinations in the past, but somehow this experience made everything *real,* and he just couldn’t deal with that.

Kyarsky filled the awkwardness by urging him to lie back down. “You must relax.” He repeated, once more rubbing his hands in a gentle pattern over his patient’s stomach. It seemed like an eternity since anyone had touched him in anything resembling a soothing manner and Wesley gradually found himself responding to the comfort of the doctor’s touch. He allowed himself to slowly calm down beneath Kyarsky’s skillful hands. Pulling deep soothing breaths into his lungs, he closed his eyes as the doctor’s voice rose to fill the silence. “I need you to trust me, young man. I cannot help you if you don’t.”

He nodded without reopening his eyes, willing himself to relax.

“I know this is difficult for you, but I sense it’s been a long time since you’ve allowed yourself to trust anyone, even your friend in the waiting room. Maybe forever. I think you want to trust, but I think you’re afraid.”

Wesley lay quietly without commenting and listened to the sound of the doctor’s voice washing over him. He allowed his mind to empty itself of the raging thoughts threatening his sanity. He couldn’t deal with the possibility the doctor’s prognosis had revealed. By what warped sense of humor could any deity see itself fit to deliver him to such a fate? It wasn’t possible that he was carrying the child of a man who obviously couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him. He refused to believe it was true. A wave of despair passed over him. This wasn’t Angel’s child…

The touch of the doctor’s hands abruptly tore him from his thoughts and his eyes flew wide. Common sense should have told him to expect a thorough examination, but somehow the probe of a hand on his groin took him by surprise. In shock, he felt himself respond to the man’s touch, and with a cry of alarm he sprang to a sitting position, grabbed the sheet and covered himself. He felt foolish, like a silly shirking violet, and he knew he looked ridiculous, but the physical response of his body took him completely off-guard.

The doctor took his reaction in stride, settling back and regarding his uncooperative patient from behind his coke-bottle glasses with owl-like eyes. “This happens often. Yes?”

Wesley frowned, confused by the question. Then it dawned on him what the doctor was asking. “All the damned time,” he hissed in frustration. “You have no idea how infuriating it is. I get hard without the least provocation. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I haven’t had such a lack of control since I was a teenager.” His voice fell to a whisper. “It actually hurts.”

“Hormones.” The doctor responded simply. 

“Hormones?” 

“It’s normal. Your body is simply reacting to the changes it’s experiencing. I can give you something to help. Natural herbs that will not harm your baby. It won’t solve the problem but it’ll lessen the inconvenience.”

He nodded numbly, feeling like an utter fool, but unable to help it. “This whole experience is just so bloody humiliating. I’ve been in hospital so many times over the last couple of years I’ve lost count. Been poked, prodded, cut, stabbed, shot. You name it! But I’ve never felt so…so bloody vulnerable.” He continued to cling to the sheet, covering himself and feeling even more ridiculous. “I’m not a teenage girl!”

“Young man.” The doctor drew a deep sigh and reached behind himself to pull up one of the orange plastic chairs. He had a seat next to the table where Wesley sat, cowering beneath the sheet, naked except for the flimsy paper gown. With surprising patience, Kyarsky continued gently. “You cannot control your body’s reaction to what is happening to it. Despite the circumstances surrounding this unique situation, by everything I’ve been able to determine so far, this appears to be a normal pregnancy. I have found that with most all species, this causes elevated stress levels and hormonal fluxes that cannot be controlled. You are not to blame for feeling like, ‘A teenage girl.’”

“Hormones?” So the entity’s presence *was* affecting his emotions as he suspected. Every paranormal pregnancy with which he was familiar altered its host.

“This vampire you had sex with, he is gone?”

The question took him by surprise and he couldn’t form a reply.

“Now it is clear.” The doctor nodded sagely when he didn’t respond. “Human/Vampire relationships are rare, but I have known of a few. If they choose not to turn their human or to devour them, they eventually move on. Your vampire has moved on. Yes?”

“Angel isn’t like a normal vampire. It’s difficult to explain.” Wesley dropped his head. “But, yes, you could say he’s moved on.”

“And now you’re alone. Your condition is stressful enough without suffering the loss of the person you love.”

“No.” Wesley adamantly shook his head. “I didn’t…I don’t love Angel. It was something that just happened, a foolish, blundering mistake. Once…only once. I was an idiot for letting it happen, but I’ve moved on now. I have a new life here, where I’m needed. I can’t let what’s happening to me interfere with my duties to the people around me. The Slayers, Giles, they’re all depending on me.”

“And I’m sure you won’t let them down. You seem to be a very determined young man.” Kyarsky stood up and placed a comforting hand on Wesley’s arm. “It’s going to be all right,” he said softly. “I’m here to help you. Even if this Angel has left you, you aren’t alone.”

“He doesn’t want me.” The words crept from his lips and he couldn’t look up to face the doctor. “This can’t be his child. It just can’t.”

“Everything will be all right,” The doctor repeated as he began to gently push Wesley back, urging him to lie down. “Now, let’s take a better look at how things are going…”

 

*~*~*~*~*

“Have you reached any definitive conclusions?” Giles stood and faced Kyarsky when he entered the room. “Do you have any suggestions on how we can eliminate this thing?”

The doctor held up his hand. “One question at a time, please. First, your friend is healthy. A bit anemic, perhaps, but he appears to be doing fine. Unfortunately, he doesn’t appear to have a birth canal so that will complicate things a bit.”

“How do we get rid of it?” 

“Giles,” Wesley drew his attention from where he stood behind the doctor. “I have concluded it might be prudent to wait.”

“Wait?” The older man’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “Wesley, I’m afraid this thing may be affecting your mind. We need to remove this thing now. Wouldn’t you agree, Doctor?”

The little man slowly shook his head. “It’s not for me to say. Such decisions are personal and should not be entered into lightly.”

“What!! Are you daft, man? There’s possibly a malevolent entity growing inside of my friend here and we need to get it out one way or another before it’s too late.”

“We don’t know that this creature is dangerous, nor where it might have come from. Don’t we at least owe it the benefit of the doubt to find out?” Wesley argued, surprised by his sudden reluctance to destroy the fetus.

“What!” Giles gasped in surprise at this turn of events. “You’re talking nonsense. We’ve been in agreement throughout that this entity has to be destroyed.”

“If we can find out what it is, we might be able to understand--”

“Absolutely not! You’re clearly not yourself. And you…” He jabbed an accusatory finger in Kyarsky’s direction, backing the little man into a corner. “You’ve been absolutely no help at all. I don’t know what nonsense you’ve filled my friend’s head with or what you could possibly hope to gain by this, but I’ll have your head if he’s harmed because of it.”

“Rupert, please.” Wesley stepped between them. “It’s my decision to make. Doctor Kyarsky had nothing to do with it.”

“You’re clearly not yourself, Wesley.” He turned concerned eyes in the young man’s direction. “This creature is affecting your mind. Think man. Think. Would you have taken Cordelia’s word for it that the child she was carrying was perfectly normal?”

“No.” He responded softly. Recalling how Angel had gone so far as to set out with the intention of killing both Cordelia and her unborn child without a moment’s hesitation. And he, himself, was fully prepared to kill Angel’s son while it was still in Darla’s womb. So how could he possibly trust that his own judgment was clear with regard to his current situation? Logic dictated he rely on the opinions of a much more objective mind – Giles. He reluctantly nodded. “You’re right, of course. We can’t risk the possibility that this thing might be a danger to the people around us.”

“We’ll find another solution.” Giles glared at the doctor and shoved past him, heading for the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

Wesley hesitated.

Giles pushed open the door and stormed out into the street, slamming it behind him.

Wesley offered the little doctor an apologetic look and started after his companion, but Kyarsky quickly intercepted him, causing him to pause. 

“The decision is still yours to make,” he said softly. “No one else’s. Here are the herbs I spoke of.” He thrust a small bottle into Wesley’s hand before he could protest. “They will help ease your…discomfort.”

He nodded and turned to leave. 

“You may return any time if you decide that you want to see your baby.”

Wesley pulled in his breath and froze, his hand still on the door.

“There wasn’t time today. I know that you’re late for work. But the offer still stands. You can return for a sonogram any time you wish.”

Wesley stood frozen in place, unable to form a response.

“If you decide to keep your child, there is no shame. If it is part demon, I know of many places you can go for help.” Kyarsky stepped to his side and pressed a piece of paper into his hand. “This is a list of nutritional supplements you should be taking and books you might wish to read.”

Wesley’s head was swimming. He could barely process the words the man was saying. A child. His child. He mumbled his thanks, pushed open the door and stumbled into the street.


	4. 4/11

*~*~*~*~*

 

“So, Slayers have existed for thousands of years?” Rebecca’s hazel eyes sparkled with interest. “And there are others like me out there?”

Wesley nodded. 

The petite brunette continued to fold the pastel comforters, arranging them on the shelf while occasionally glancing past Wesley’s shoulder to watch for a passing manager. “I felt so alone. I can’t believe there are other people like me out there.”

“Other girls. Slayers are all of the female gender.” Wesley explained, following Ms. Martin as she finished stocking the shelves, then headed to a rolling rack of infant wear that she started to unload. “Until recently, there has only been one Slayer at a time.”

She paused in her work and stared at him, wide-eyed. “Only one? Whose bright idea was that?”

He was taken aback by the question and paused for a moment to consider his response. “The original mystics who harnessed the Slayer’s power made that determination. It is quite possible they felt a single, young female would be more malleable.”

“Shows how little they knew about teenage girls.” She grinned, reaching for several tiny jumpers and pulling them from the rolling rack.

“Indeed.” Wesley couldn’t resist a slight smile at the comment. “But then, young girls were much different in ancient times than they are today. In any event, all that was permanently changed when Willow and Buffy--”

“The Wicca and the Top Dog Slayer,” she interjected, following along. 

He paused, considered her choice of words then nodded. “Yes…well, they released the power and now there are activated Slayers all over the world.”

“How many?”

“We haven’t the foggiest. We think the highest concentration would logically be around or near any active Hellmouth.”

“That Hellfire and brimstone thingy we’re sittin’ on top of?”

He nodded.

“Who would have thought something like this was right here beneath our feet? I’d of thought Toledo was *way* more likely. I’ll bet ya, some of the Browns are in league with those demons you told me about.” 

Wesley was unsure of how to respond to that comment, but when he caught the hint of a smile on her lips he relaxed and returned it. Her sense of humor sometimes caught him off guard. “Until recently, the most active of the Hellmouths was located in Sunnydale California.”

“California seems a world away to me.” She continued to transfer a number of tiny sleep suits from the rolling rack to a round rack in the center of the department. “I’m a Buckeye, born and raised, never been out of the state. At least not to speak of. I don’t imagine Illinois counts. You’re from England, aren’t you?”

“Yes. The Watcher’s Council is…” He caught himself when he realized his faux pas and continued quietly, “*Was* in England. Most of them are gone now, and of those who remain, most are disinterested in the fate of the Slayer, or rather Slayers, since the power was disseminated.”

“Except for you guys.” 

He nodded.

“Are you going to be my Watcher?” Her expression was hopeful.

“It doesn’t work like that any more. We’re here if you need us, both Giles and myself. All of us, in fact. But you won’t have an official Watcher nor will you be accountable to the Council. You’re free to pursue whatever life you wish.”

“You mean you aren’t my knight in shinning armor come to whisk me away from all this?” She spread her arms, indicating the “Toddlers and Infants” department, cribs, strollers and bassinets surrounding them. “Tell me, is this Giles guy as good looking as you? Cause if so, girls will be knocking themselves out to join our team.”

“Well, I…” He found himself at a momentary loss as he felt a flush of heat cross his cheeks. He cursed the cockeyed hormones running through his system, and thought about the herbal supplements in his pocket. He was due to take another couple of pills within the hour.

“G-man Jr., here’s, in a league all his own.” A familiar voice responded next to his right elbow and he turned to see a grinning Xander who chose that moment to wander out of the toys and games section where he’d been loitering, to join them. “But Giles is pretty okay for an old guy.”

“Well, if you two are the welcoming committee I’m all for joining up.” She gave Xander a smile.

“It’s not a group you join in that sense.” Wesley found his voice and continued. “By virtue of your birthright as a Slayer, you may have access to our resources anytime you wish. Our knowledge and assistance is yours for the asking.”

“By virtue of my Birthright,” she repeated, liking the sound of the words and the way he said them. “You make it sound so grand.”

“Believe me, it isn’t. It’s a huge responsibility for all of us. It’s dangerous, as you know, and tends to dominate a good portion of our lives.”

“Yeah. Like *all* our lives.” Xander added. “If you can call what any of us have an actual life. Work. Slaying. Research. It’s an endless, boring cycle. Zero social life.”

Wesley nodded, silently considering his own lack of a true social life and his dwindling chances that it would ever change. 

“But it’s our calling.” Xander added with a wink of his one good eye. “But just between the two of us, don’t give up your day job, cause the pay’s lousy. As in ‘no’ pay. Funny how I never understood why those tightwads over in England didn’t pay us a salary, especially Buffy all those years. It sure would have helped pay the mortgage.” 

“Slayers traditionally are not surrounded by an entourage.” Wesley pointed out. “None the less, the issue is now moot. We’re on our own.”

“I guess if you think about it, even Superman had a job.” Xander reasoned. “So I guess you could say, I’m in good company. Construction dude by day, building single-family dwellings on East 43rd street. Slayer-man by night! Of course, unlike Superman, I can’t hide behind the glasses.” He reached up and gave his eye patch a tap. “Do you suppose if I changed the color from black to say, red, people wouldn’t guess my secret identity?”

“I always did find that somewhat lacking in credibility.” Wesley interjected. “That people were unable to tell that Clark Kent and Superman were one in the same, simply due to the presence of a pair of spectacles.” 

“I don’t know.” Xander stepped back and regarded him closely. “You’re almost like two different people these days. From Wusley suit-guy to dangerous Scruffy dude, sans specs.”

Wesley was unsure of how to respond to that so he said nothing. 

Xander leaned closer and squinted at the scar running along his neck. “Looks like you and I both have given our fair share for the cause these past few years.” He reached out and before Wes could think to react, traced his finger along the scar. 

The unexpected touch was electric and shot straight to his groin. Wesley jumped, startled. His cheeks reddened, and for the second time that evening, he cursed his body that seemed determined to betray him. Having another person actually touch him was almost more than he could take.

Their gazes locked and for a moment it seemed like Xander was going to comment when Rebecca interrupted by tugging Wesley’s sleeve.

“My boss,” she hissed, glancing off into the distance. “Look like customers. The last thing I need is for her to think my boyfriends are hanging around.”

“Customers?” Wesley found himself propelled in the direction of a display of children’s books. 

“You look like a book man. Look interested,” she whispered.

He could hear Xander chuckling in the background, and the young man joined him, scooping up a ‘Winnie The Pooh’ book and flipping through it. Wesley stood staring at the display and the multi-colored array of children’s books. His eyes fell on a series of Paddington Bear books he could vividly recall from his youth. He picked one up and gently turned the pages, remembering the smooth texture and the brilliant illustrations of the whimsical bear in his floppy hat, abandoned in Paddington Station. Wesley used to dream that he, too, was abandoned and adopted by a loving family who would cherish him forever.

A loving family.

“I read these as a kid,” Xander commented, drawing his attention. “Pooh was pretty cool. Always getting his head stuck in things. Figure I’ll probably read’um to my kids someday. Not that my old man ever read to me or anything, but Willow’s grandmother used to read to us and it was kinda nice. Kids need stuff like that.”

Wesley’s eyes remained fixed on the book in his hand as Xander’s voice drifted into the background of his thoughts. 

Kids need stuff like that. 

He gently traced the outline of the little bear in the illustration and his heart began to race.

“Hey, Wes, ya gonna buy that thing?” Xander joked. “Catch up on a little light reading in your spare time?”

He returned the book to the display and started to step away. Paddington stared up at him from the cover. He reached back down and gathered the book into his hand. “Yes.” He heard himself say. “I am.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Just lie back and relax. This won’t hurt.”

Wesley closed his eyes and drew deep soothing breaths into his lungs as he felt the warmth of soft hands moving over his abdomen.

“Everything looks fine. There’s not much change from what I can see.”

“It’s only been a few days.” The ex-watcher pointed out reasonably.

“Still, you might be surprised. Sudden changes are not unusual even in normal pregnancies. But everything appears fine, visually. Have you been taking the vitamins I suggested?”

Wesley nodded without reopening his eyes, forcing himself to relax beneath the touch of Kyarsky’s hands caressing the exposed mound he usually kept hidden beneath loose shirts and Dockers. Surprisingly, he found it much easier to allow the examination this time. The owlish little man’s touch was actually soothing to his nerves that were perpetually on edge these days. Every little thing seemed beyond endurance. Dirty dishes in the sink when any fool could see they owned a dishwasher. Teenage Slayers hogging the bathrooms. Too many people, not enough bedrooms. Dawn and Buffy at one another’s throats about whether or not Dawn should patrol. Kennedy and Willow constantly hanging on one another. Disagreements about who should patrol, when and where….

Kennedy and Willow constantly hanging on one another.

It shouldn’t have bothered him. He couldn’t understand why it did. The two girls were clearly infatuated with each another, but they shared the bedroom next to his and Giles’ and sometimes…

It was impossible to get a moment alone to relieve his own frustrations without being subjected to their incessant preoccupation with each another. The solitude of the shower was the only place he could find, and the audacity of teenage girls to intrude even there was beyond belief. Nothing could put a damper on the moment quicker than a group of teenagers hovering outside the door giggling. 

Wesley pushed the thoughts from his mind and tried to concentrate on the hands gently caressing his stomach. It seemed like an eternity since anyone had touched him. Why did the isolation bother him now? In the past, he’d gone for years without companionship. Why did he feel so empty and alone now? It felt twisted that the touch of an old man with coke-bottle glasses should actually be welcomed by his tired, aching body, but strangely enough, Doctor Kyarsky was actually helping to ease the hollowness of his soul. The doctor seemed to care. 

“You wish to see your baby, yes?”

The question weaved into his thoughts and he opened his eyes. “The…the fetus. Yes, I wish to see it, if I may. It will help us determine what we’re dealing with. Giles thinks he may have located someone who can…who can help us deal with this situation.”

“Your friend, he has made up his mind about this? He doesn’t like demons much, does he?” Kyarsky commented as he continued gathering his equipment. “I think you, on the other hand, feel differently about demons.”

“As a Watcher, he has learned to distrust most if not all demons. I, on the other hand, have learned that not all things are as clear as they seem. Many of my contacts in L.A. were demons. And several I counted as friends. Rupert did not have that same experience during his years in Sunnydale assisting the slayer. Still, he’s my friend and he only wants what he thinks is best for me. Funny, I never thought I would be telling someone that Giles and I were friends.”

The doctor turned and retrieved a bottle from a tray, pouring its contents into his palm. “The sonogram uses sound waves, there is no radiation to be concerned with.”

“I’m familiar with the equipment,” he said simply, staring at the ceiling at a sepia colored stain, and remembering the sonogram they performed on Darla when she was carrying Angel’s son. At the time, he was convinced the unborn anomaly should be destroyed. His Watcher instincts screamed that it was evil and would bring about the ruination of mankind. But the moment he felt the child was threatened, he threw his life away to protect him. He was wrong about that child. Was it possible he was wrong about this?

He felt a cool, wet jell smoothed over his abdomen, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“Your blood tests all came back fine,” Kyarsky was saying. “A slight imbalance in hormone levels, but that’s to be expected. Being male, your body is not equipped to produce the appropriate chemical balances needed to sustain a normal pregnancy. You’ve been experiencing mood swings, fatigue, muscular discomforts, as well as your elevated libido, yes?”

He nodded; closely watching the man’s hands as they continued to spread the cool jell over his taunt skin. “I feel like I have a low-grade fever all the time and my muscles ache. I can’t afford to slow down. We discovered several new girls recently and vampire activity has increased on the east side of the city. We’ve been forced to send out several patrols a night.” 

“And you work all day, as well?”

“We’re preparing two new exhibits due to be released later this month. Ukrainian ceramics and art.”

“It would be a waste of time to tell you to rest more often,” Kyarsky commented dryly. “Your friend should see that you take better care of yourself.”

Wesley didn’t reply. It was essential that he pull his weight among the group. Everyone was already spread as thin as possible and there was no room for slacking. 

“This might feel cold.”

The pressure of the transducer against his skin drew his attention and he watched as Kyarsky moved the wand over the mound that was becoming a familiar part of his bizarre life. The diagnostic screen next to the examination table sprang to life and his eyes were drawn to the ghostly images swimming into focus. At first it revealed nothing but a blur, then gradually the rapid pulse of a heartbeat sprang into view.

Wesley squeezed his eyes shut.

The wand continued its trek over his abdomen. 

“There it is.” He heard the doctor’s voice.

“How many…?” He swallowed hard then asked. “How many heads does it have?”

“The standard.”

“The standard *what?*” He snapped. “Karvainian Sloth Demon standard?”

“Human.” The doctor answered softly.

Slowly Wesley opened his eyes and turned to face the screen. The shape was blurred but clearly that of a tiny, humanoid form, curled tightly into itself, fragile arms and legs pressed into a protective ball.

His heart rose into his throat and he couldn’t breathe. *This* was inside of him. “It’s…it’s perfect,” he whispered. “How is that possible?”

“Anything is possible, as you well know.” The doctor answered simply, moving the wand and giving them an even better view.

His eyes were riveted to the screen. He wanted to look away. *Couldn’t* look away. The tiny form moved, obviously sleeping, trusting that all was right with its world.

Wesley couldn’t breathe.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

“I could tell you its sex, but it doesn’t seem to want to cooperate today,” Kyarsky commented. “It appears perfectly healthy…”

The words jumbled together in Wesley’s mind and he couldn’t think. Born into a Watcher family, he learned to expect the unexpected before he learned to walk. Anything was possible. But he was unprepared for the possibility that this might actually be a normal, human child.

Angel’s child.

“Turn it off!!”

“We might be able to tell the gender if we--”

“Turn the damn thing off!” He felt like he was choking and he fought to pull air into his lungs. 

Kyarsky withdrew the transducer and laid it aside, then turned back to his patient, resting a hand against his stomach. “You need to relax. This isn’t good for you or the baby.”

He began to shake and couldn’t stop. 

“Breathe deeply.” The doctor gently passed his hand over Wesley’s swollen stomach. “This will pass.”

He fought to sit up. “I have to go.” He found his voice. “I need to get back to work. We’re inventorying--”

“What you need to do, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce is calm down. Your work can wait. I can’t let you leave like this.”

“You don’t understand. There are Nineteenth Century ceramics that must be cataloged before we can even begin to consider--”

“Mr. Pryce!” Kyarsky shouted and the sound reverberated through the tiny room. 

It was the first time Wesley heard the little man raise his voice and it stunned him into silence. He sat up and stared at the doctor.

“Your work can wait,” he repeated softly. “Your Slayers can wait. Everything can wait, Wesley. What cannot wait is you and the welfare of your child. You worry about everyone and everything but yourself. It’s time for you to worry about you.”

He started to tremble and couldn’t stop. It was all too much. He knew that if he didn’t start moving soon, the dam would break and he would drown in the flood. “Please….I really need to go.”

The doctor reached across and began to massage his shoulders, but the trembling only got worse.

“You don’t understand. I can’t…I mustn’t…” He dropped his face into his hands as the pain rushed from him in a torrent of confusion. “If this is real. If this child is real. Don’t you see, if there’s any room for doubt, I can’t destroy it. This might truly be Angel’s child!”

“Your vampire?” Kyarsky inquired softly.

He nodded numbly without raising his head, his mind filled with the vision of the tiny infant curled protectively inside of him.

His child.

A child that was never meant to be.

A miracle?

Was it too much to hope that something perfect and divine could come of this? Nothing good ever happened to Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, so it was natural to assume this, too, would turn out to be a heinous crime against nature. A monster that needed to be destroyed. An outcast.

Much like Wesley himself.

Maybe this truly was his child in more ways than one. Suddenly he realized it deserved a chance, regardless of the odds. A chance that he intended to give it. If they chose to kill it, they would have to kill him, too. He didn’t have much to show for his life but one miserable failure after another. He’d managed to blunder, alienate and hurt everyone who ever mattered to him. He had nothing to show for his life.

Except this.

For good or ill, this was the legacy he would leave behind. 

He slowly raised his head.

“You feel better, yes?” The doctor leaned near and regarded him closely, his eyes distorted behind the thick glasses. “You seem more calm.”

He nodded, still numb but resolved in his decision. This child would live. If it was an evil manifestation created by an unknown being or a child he shared with a selfish vampire who didn’t care to give him the time of day, so be it, this child was his.

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was going to have a baby.

“If you wish to dress now, you may leave. I can give you a tape of our session and a few stills, if you like.”

He turned to the doctor; suddenly grateful to the little man for the kindness he’d shown him. “Yes, thank you, I would like that very much.”

A smile brightened Kyarsky’s face and he nodded. “When you’ve dressed, your friend is waiting for you in the waiting room.”

Wesley frowned. His friend? No one knew he was here. He rushed away from the museum on his lunch break so no one would know. He grimaced inwardly and watched the doctor leave, closing the door behind him. 

Giles had followed him. 

He slowly dressed, all the while dreading the confrontation. He wasn’t ready to discuss this with Rupert. He knew it would only end in a horrific row. The elder ex-watcher had his best interest at heart, but his mind was made up. If the child had to be destroyed, he would request that both he and the child be destroyed together.

He steeled his resolve, drew a deep breath, and left the examination room. 

Running headlong into Xander.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Wesley froze.

Xander was the last person he expected to see. 

“What are you doing here?” He snapped before the young man could open his mouth to speak. “You have no business being here. How in the hell did you find me?”

“Whoa up there,” Xander threw up his hands and took a step back. “Chill out, already. I thought that something was wrong. What is this place anyway?”

“What are you doing here?” He demanded again. “I thought you were working way over on East 43rd street and you show up here on this side of town.”

“Water main broke and we had to shut down the site. So I thought I’d whip over to catch lunch with you and ole Rupe. I got to the museum and saw you tearing out of there like the place was on fire. I thought something was wrong so I followed you. Sue me already.”

“You had no business following me,” he snarled, pushing past him and heading for the door. Doctor Kyarsky stepped into the room and intercepted him. He held out the promised tape and the still shots carefully wrapped. Wesley paused and gratefully accepted the offered items. “Thank you.”

Kyarsky gave him a slight smile, casting a glance at the confused young man who stood watching them from across the room. “It would seem you have more than one friend who is concerned for you.” He said, lowing his voice to a discreet level. “You are not as alone as you think.”

Wesley huffed and glared in Xander’s direction. “He’s an associate who has no business sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Look man, like I said, I thought something was wrong.” Xander glanced curiously around the cluttered confines of the waiting room. “What is this place anyway?”

“I’m a doctor who specializes in demon physiology,” Kyarsky spoke up to ease Wesley’s obvious discomfort. “Mr. Wyndam-Pryce and I were conferring on an issue of mutual concern.”

Xander shrugged. “Well, if you can help us with that nest of gray slug like buggers we found under Cleveland Brown Stadium, I’ll be your friend for life. Every time we cut one of those nasty things we end up with another one.”

“Karvainian Sloth Demons are very hostile and quite difficult to destroy once they’ve infested an area.”

“Tell me about it.” 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work,” Wesley grumbled and headed for the door.

“And I thought teenage girls were moody,” Xander mumbled under his breath. “Take a Midol already.”

Wesley paused in the doorway and looked down at the photos in his hand. Carefully unwrapping one, his eyes fell on the tiny form curled tightly into itself. The world fell away around him and all that existed at that moment in time was the unsuspecting life in his palm. 

“I pity the vampire who meets up with you tonight on patrol.” Xander’s sarcastic tone invaded his thoughts as he shoved past and out the door. “See ya at Erie Cemetery promptly at 8:00, Mr. Moody Pants.”


	5. 5/11

*~*~*~*~*

 

The cemetery was old with broken monuments incrusted in moss. Mausoleums were scattered around the immense grounds, dilapidated with ivy growing through their cracks. A virtual paradise for the vampires running rampant in this oldest cemetery in the city, their activity unchecked for many years as the Hellmouth lay smoldering beneath the earth.

“There’s a new game in town!” Dawn bound through the cemetery, twirling her stake and catching it in the air with typical Summers’ grace. “Look out vamps here we come.”

The group weaved among the monuments, Dawn sprinting out into the lead followed by Xander and their newest Slayer Rebecca with Wesley bringing up the rear, watching for any possible ambush from behind.

Rebecca darted forward and fell into step beside Dawn. “You guys get to do this every night?”

“Been doing it for years.” Dawn grinned. “Or at least whenever Buffy’ll let me. She’s such a mother hen. But lately she’s been so wrapped up in school stuff that I can finally get some breathing space.”

“You bagged very many vampires?”

“My fair share. Especially those Ubervamps. Talk about gross.” She shuddered. “They just kept coming, and we just kept killing. I thought we were goners. The whole place got sucked down. It was really kinda neat in a way…” She trailed when she noticed Xander at her side and amended her tale. “Only kinda not so neat since people died.” She cast him an apologetic look and he gave her a solemn nod.

“What’s an Ubervamp?” Rebecca asked.

Wesley realized the question was addressed to him and he carefully scanned the darkness surrounding them before moving up to join them, crossbow in hand. “They are very ancient vampires with a great deal of power. Thousands of years--”

“Pleeeese, don’t get him started.” Dawn moaned, rolling her eyes. “Lesson number one. Never get a Watcher off into lecture mode. Trust me, I should know. I’ve been around Buffy’s watchers since I was nine years old. You don’t want to get one of them going, you’ll be old and gray before they’re finished.”

Xander snickered at Wesley’s expense. 

“As you wish, Ms. Summers. An evening with no lectures.” The ex-watcher responded smoothly, to her obvious glee.

“This night just keeps getting better and better.” She grinned, twirling her stake again and peering into the shadows. “A cemetery named Erie is kinda eerie if you think about it.”

“Cute. Real cute.” Rebecca groaned. “Are you sure there’s really vampires out here?”

“Most assuredly, Ms. Martin,” Wesley replied. “These old cemeteries are infested with all manner of demonic entities, forces left unchecked for centuries.”

“These cemeteries around here are way better than the ones we had back in Sunnydale.” Dawn added. “Full of all sorts of interesting old graves and such. Buffy and I were in one just last week where a bunch of giants were buried.”

“Giants?” Rebecca paused and frowned then she started to laugh. “Mound Hill over in Seville. You’re talking about the Bates family.”

“Excuse me?” Xander interjected, the conversation catching his attention. “Giants? Believe me, I’ve seen everything but there’s no such thing as a giant.”

“The Seville Giants were real people who died around the turn of the century. We’re talking Guinness Book of World Record kind of giants. They’re buried in Mound Hill. There’s a museum up there that will tell you all about them. I guess we do have some pretty neat cemeteries around here. Lakeside is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, especially at sunset with the light reflecting off the water. I just never hung out in them at night before, vampire hunting.”

“When you spend as much time in cemeteries as we do, you take your entertainment where you can get it.” Dawn said. “I guess our lives are pretty kinky when you think about it. Being the sister of a Slayer, well what can I say, I’m scarred for life.”

“Giants?” Xander repeated, still intrigued by their earlier topic. “I’ve gotta get out more often.”

“I’ll trade you two giants for three Ubervamps.” Rebecca laughed, peering into the shrouded darkness at the tombstones cast in shadows. “Sunnydale sounds much more interesting to me than this place.” She turned back to face Wesley. “How many of these super vamps did you kill?”

“Ole Wes missed the party,” Xander added with a wink. “He was taking it easy in L.A. while the rest of us hardworking stiffs were averting the apocalypse.” 

“Indeed.” Wesley couldn’t resist the hint of a smile at the irony of Xander’s comment. “I was on holiday enjoying a rain of fire, permanent obliteration of the sun, the Jasmine worship fest and the reemergence of Angelus.” The humor dimmed in his eyes as the thought of Angelus brought with it the memory of Angel. He pushed the thought aside and moved on, still bringing up the rear of their patrol. Life would go on with or without Angel, especially now that he had much more important responsibilities to consider.

“On second thought, I think I’d rather deal with the Ubervamps,” Xander commented dryly. “I, for one--”

A scream rent the night and the patrol pulled to a halt.

“Show time, kidos.” 

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

A nest of vampires had taken up residence in one of the older crypts on the far side of the cemetery. The group moved in from the shadows to surround the vault. Wesley motioned for the others to wait while he slipped forward and peered through a crack in a stain glass window crusted with age. Inside, five male vampires who looked like rejects from Woodstock were “entertaining” a young woman who was clearly terrified. She screamed again and Wesley gripped his crossbow, motioning for the others to join him.

There was only one entrance to the crypt so there was little chance of taking the creatures by surprise. So Wesley decided the best attack was a full frontal assault. The others moved to the door and waited then he smashed the window, aimed and fired into the ensuing frenzy, striking one of the vamps in the chest who promptly dissolved into ash. The remaining vampires whirled toward the window, snarling in anger as the door behind them burst open and Xander, Dawn and the Slayer rushed in, their stakes raised. The vampires turned and lunged at the trio as their victim scampered off into the shadows, cowering next to the far wall while mayhem erupted around her.

Rebecca took her vampire out within minutes and turned to help Dawn with hers. Xander was battling the remaining two when Wesley raced through the door, crossbow reloaded and fired, taking out a second vamp, leaving Xander fighting only one. Rebecca and Dawn’s opponent turned out to be especially vicious and the girls were struggling to take him down. He considered the fight amusing and laughed hysterically at the petite young females trying to stake him, right up until the moment Dawn drove her point home and he dissolved in a puff of astonished dust, his yellow eyes wide in surprise. Dawn laughed with glee even as Xander dispatched the final vamp.

The group drew a collective sigh of relief and Wesley moved to the far corner of the crypt where the vampires’ young victim was cowered, huddled on the floor. “It’s all right,” he reassured, kneeling. 

The girl raised her head and looked at him through tearstained eyes. 

“Everything’s all right now, you’re safe.” He reached out his hand to help her to her feet when her eyes grew wide and she let out a screech, cowering back.

“Ah….Wes?” Xander’s voice came from behind him and he turned.

Shadows snaked across the floor and the team stood staring toward the entrance with looks of dismay on their faces as a group of vampires shuffled into the room blocking their only exit.

“Shit.” Xander hissed.

“Agreed.” Wes leaped to his feet, aimed his weapon and fired, dusting a vamp as the others roared with rage and spilled into the room, descending on Xander and the girls. Wesley managed to reload in time to take out a second vampire before it reached him, but the vampires just kept coming. There were at least ten of the creatures, snarling and angry that their party had been crashed by these pesky humans. The girl was screaming again, it echoed in Wesley’s ears as he dove into the fray. He got off one more successful shot before the close proximity made his weapon impractical. He managed to reload as an angry vampire ripped it from his hands, tossing it into the shadows.

The others were putting up a valiant fight around him, holding their own as Wes reached into his jacket and withdrew his stake, driving it at the vampire who managed to dodge his lunge. Suddenly, he heard Rebecca scream and he turned in time to see Xander go down beneath a vampire’s blow. He didn’t get back up. The vampire descended on his unconscious form and Rebecca abandoned the vampire she was fighting and leaped onto its back. She managed to destroy it, but two more vampires took its place, moving in for an attack. Wesley lost sight of the altercation as his own vampire regained his attention with a blinding blow to the side of his face. Wesley staggered, regained his balance and lunged at his opponent, striking it but only managing to hit its shoulder. It laughed in his face. He lunged again but it sidestepped, striking him in the arm with a blow that knocked him off balance. He was tiring. They all were. He lost count of how many vampires they’d killed tonight. The vampire was grinning, playing with him like a cat with a mouse.

He worried about Xander, who he lost sight of, and Dawn, struggling in the corner with her own vampire as he countered the creature’s blows, twirling and kicking out, striking it in the gut. His group’s safety dominated his thoughts as he fought. He wouldn’t lose a single member, not while he could still draw breath. He was determined they would come back whole. But their odds were dwindling as the vampire continued to wear him down, its yellow eyes reflecting its glee. 

From the corner of his eye, he could tell that his group had managed to reduce the number of their opponents to four. Xander was still down but breathing, thankfully forgotten by the vampires who where busy toying with the other humans. Dawn was backed into a corner, fatigue showing in the lines of her face as she fought with the last of her reserves. Rebecca was struggling with the remaining two and couldn’t reach her. Wesley could tell Dawn would soon collapse and he knew he had to dispatch his vampire so he could help her. With renewed resolve, he fought the creature back, knocking it off balance and finally gaining the advantage. He raised his stake….

Someone screamed.

He whirled in the direction of the sound and froze.

Dawn was backed against the wall of the crypt and the vampire had her own stake to her throat. He snarled in her face and she cringed in fear.

Wesley’s vampire grinned and his heart sank. “Looks like you lose,” the vampire hissed.

Rebecca instantly dropped her weapon, her eyes wide, and the two vampires she was fighting quickly advanced.

Wesley hesitated. Logically, he knew the vampires would kill them regardless. Their only chance was to continue fighting. Logic had always reigned over emotion in his life. If he dropped his weapon too, there was no chance any of them would survive. 

Rebecca stood frozen, her eyes locked on the petite blond in the vampire’s clutches. The creature turned to face Wes who still held his weapon and smiled. 

“Want to see her bleed?” The vampire asked.

“You’ll kill her no matter what I do.”

“Maybe yes.” He pressed the point of the stake into her throat just enough to make her gasp. “Maybe no. Maybe we’ll kill you all quickly if you cooperate. Or maybe we’ll have fun with you first. We’re in a partying mood.”

“Just our luck,” Wesley grumbled. “Vampires who want to play games.”

“You have to drop your stake!” Rebecca cried. “Or they’ll kill her.”

“You don’t understand, vampires don’t negotiate.” He told her, dismayed to see that she’d already surrendered her weapon to the two vampires flanking her. 

“We don’t have any choice!”

Dawn cried out in pain and Wesley faltered in his resolve. It went against everything he knew to capitulate with a group of vampires. But looking into Dawn’s fear-filled eyes he thought of Buffy and what the loss of her sister would do to her.

He started to lower his weapon. 

His vampire grinned and leaned near to take the stake.

“I don’t negotiate with vampires!” He hissed and suddenly plunged the stake toward the creature’s chest. It dodged in surprise and kicked out, hitting Wesley in the gut and sending him flying. His stake flew from his hand and disappeared into the darkness. The vampire was on him in seconds. Rebecca screamed and broke free from her captors, leaping on the vampire who had pinned Wesley and attacking it barehanded. 

“Hey, hey, people!” The vampire holding Dawn shouted above the fray. “Hostage here!”

The creature pummeled Wesley, snarling in frustration, the Slayer clinging to its back. Wesley fought to break free as the vampire bared its fangs and leaned toward his throat. Rebecca struggled to pull the creature off and might have succeeded but the other two vampires were on her within minutes, pulling her away and leaving the vampire to sink its fangs into Wesley’s neck. He hissed in pain as the teeth broke the skin and his blood was pulled from his veins in deep, burning gulps. He felt the strength draining from his body as his world dissolved to gray. He gasped for breath, knowing it would soon be his last. The room began to dim and shadows clustered around the edges of his vision….

Then suddenly the vampire pulled free. 

Wesley gasped for breath, wondering why he was still alive.

The creature was looking at him strangely, Wesley’s blood staining its lips. “You’re tainted.”

The ex-watcher frowned in confusion, thinking the loss of blood was causing him to hallucinate. “What?” He uttered, feeling as if he were going to pass out at any moment. 

The vampire grimaced with disgust. “You’re tainted,” he repeated. “Something’s wrong with your blood. You’re disgusting.” He rose to his feet and backed away as if he were suddenly frightened.

The other vampires clustered in confusion, still holding on to their hostages but staring at Wesley as if he were a threat. He staggered to his feet.

“Get out!” The vampire shouted.

Wesley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stood in stunned silence and stared at the four vampires who stared back, huddled in the far shadows of the crypt, holding Rebecca, Dawn and the young female victim in their clutches. 

“Get out!”

“Not without my companions. Release them and we’ll leave.” He cast a glance in the direction of Xander who lay unconscious but still breathing in the corner. “Now!”

“No.” The vampire who drank his blood hissed. “Just you. Get out!”

“I won’t leave without the others.” Wesley argued. “We all go or--”

“Go Wesley,” Rebecca interrupted. “If there’s a chance for even one of us to get out of this alive, you have to take it. There’s no sense in all of us dying.”

“I won’t.” He shook his head, knowing it was out of the question. He would never leave his companions alone to die. Maybe the young man who first came to Sunnydale, frightened and inexperienced all those years ago might have jumped at the chance to escape with his life, but that man no longer existed and hadn’t in years. “We all go or we all stay.”

“Just you!” The vampire hissed again, backing away. 

“Wesley you have to leave,” Dawn struggled against the vampire holding her arms. Her eyes beseeched him. “If they’ll let you go, you owe it to us to live. Tell Buffy that I love her.”

“No!” 

“Get out.” The vampire advanced. “Or I’ll snap your scrawny neck and toss you out!”

“I refuse to leave without…” Suddenly, something moved inside him and Wesley pulled in his breath, the words dying on his lips. His eyes widened in horror when he realized the true implication of his decision to stay. He hadn’t considered the most important variable of all. 

“You have to go!” Rebecca pleaded. 

He took a staggering step backward, shaking his head. He couldn’t leave the others. A gentle flutter moved through him again and his heart rose into his throat. He couldn’t go but he couldn’t stay. Instinctively, his hand fell to his abdomen and he pressed.

Something pressed back. 

He took another retreating step, his feet involuntarily moving toward the exit. His eyes pleaded with his companions as he felt himself pulled backward toward the door. He couldn’t leave them. They were his responsibility. His team. His friends…

Yet, he couldn’t stay. 

He continued to back toward the exit, his heart aching with each agonizing step. He had to get the child to safety, even if the choice destroyed his soul. How could he have been so foolish? He reached the door…

And the vampire holding Dawn burst into ash.

The remaining three scattered in confusion, releasing the girls as everyone turned in surprise to find Xander swaying on his feet, Wesley’s crossbow clutched in his hands. He struggled to reload as Wesley dove for a stake on the floor and rushed toward the vampires. Thrown into disarray by the rapid turn of events, the vampire who’d bitten him was quickly destroyed. Then Wesley whirled around and turned his weapon on the second one while the girls attacked the last. The vampire lunged at him, almost knocking the stake from his hand as he heard the other vampire explode beneath the girls’ assault. His vampire was the only one left and it clearly wanted to escape. He swung his stake, aiming for its chest, but it dodged the blow, slammed a fist into Wesley’s gut and ran for the door. Wesley sank to the floor, gasping for breath as the vampire erupted into ash mere inches from the exit.

Xander stood holding the crossbow in his hand, having dusted the final vamp, the patch on his eye making him look dark and dangerous. He turned and looked down at Wesley kneeling on the floor still struggling to pull air into his lungs and glared. “You sorry son of a bitch.”

He couldn’t draw breath to reply.

“I thought that you changed, that you finally grew a pair. But you’re the same selfish, bastard you always were. The first chance you got, you were outta here.”

Wesley opened his mouth to respond when a sudden pain shot through him and he clutched his stomach, doubling over.

“Don’t you have anything to say, you coward?” Xander hissed, advancing as if to strike him. “I can’t believe we trusted you.”

Looking up at the enraged young man, he had no defense. Leaving was beyond reprehension. He would never forgive himself. 

“What do you have to say!”

He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain and whispered the only response he could, “Get me to Doctor Kyarsky….please.” 

 

*~*~*~*~*

“Ring Giles.” Was all he could think to say to the girls huddled in the cluttered waiting room, looks of confusion on their bruised faces.

“Please assist me.” Kyarsky turned to Xander and motioned for him to take one of Wesley’s arms as the ex-watcher braced himself against the entryway. 

“He just had the wind knocked out of him.” Xander huffed in annoyance. “Dawn’s in worse shape. Her lip’s busted and Buffy’s gonna have our asses when she sees her black eye.”

“Even so, I could use your help.” The little man reached for the ex-watcher who sagged against him, still trying to catch his breath. 

Xander hesitated.

“Now!”

Xander jumped at the sound of the impatient command and grabbed Wesley’s arm, helping the little man guide him past the worried females and into the examination room where he sank down onto the edge of the table.

“Check on the girls.” Wesley finally found his voice. “See if they’re okay. Dawn’s eye looks pretty bad.”

“I’ll take care of the girls.” Xander responded dryly. 

“You may leave, Mr. Harris.” The doctor reached into a cupboard and retrieved a stethoscope then returned to the table to stand in front of his patient who was struggling to remove his shirt. He reached out and helped him remove the garment, tossing it aside. His eyes fell to an angry bruise glaring from the pale white skin on Wesley’s right side, coloring the taunt mound of his stomach. He frowned.

Xander stood frozen in the doorway. “Dude, you really need to lay off the jelly donuts and I thought that I had it bad with the weight fluctuation thing. As skinny as you are--”

“Get out!” Wesley hissed though gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on the doctor’s hands, gently yet firmly moving over his abdomen. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s a little too early to tell. What happened?”

“Vampires,” he responded simply as the doctor reached up and grabbed his chin, moving his head to the right to examine the nasty looking bite near the older scar on his throat. 

“Do you feel faint?”

“A bit. He said my blood was tainted. Do you have any idea what he was talking about?”

The doctor shook his head. “Your tests were fine, but it might be something only a vampire could detect. The chemical changes in your system may be creating a natural deterrent against them. I don’t suppose I need to tell you that it was foolish to be out stalking vampires in your condition?”

Wesley stared at the distant wall and said nothing. Responsibility always came first. There could be no exceptions for personal weakness. Even wheelchair bound, he stood up against Angel in defense of his people, physical liability aside. Personal issues had no bearing in the work place. Yet never in his wildest dreams did he think he would be faced with a situation quite like this. “Is everything all right?” He repeated. 

The doctor leaned near and pressed the stethoscope to his abdomen, listening closely.

“What exactly’s going on here?” Xander asked, still lingering in the doorway.

“I thought I told you to leave!” Wesley snapped.

“Quiet,” Kyarsky hissed, trying to listen.

Xander ignored the admonishment, instead slipping farther into the room and moving closer to the table. Wesley was too absorbed in the doctor’s examination to comment but he cast him a scathing look.

Xander frowned.

“From what I can tell, everything’s fine, but you took a nasty blow and you should really be more careful. No more patrolling.” 

Wesley drew a sigh of relief and nodded numbly. It was foolish to have risked not only the child but the others as well. He would have to confine his duties to research for the next few months or at least until…

His thoughts trailed off at that point. Until when? He never really considered that moment when the life within him would need to come out. He was still adjusting to his decision to bring it into the world at all. He hadn’t even confronted Giles on the issue. “Did anyone ring Giles to check in?”

“Dawn was on her cell when we first got here.” Xander commented, still staring in rapt attention at Wesley’s rounded stomach and the ugly bruise marring the pale skin. 

“It would be a good idea to do a more through examination,” the doctor commented, gently pushing his hand against the injury. “And it wouldn’t hurt to get a few pints of blood into you. You’re anemic enough as it is.”

Wesley nodded, prepared to slip off the table and disrobe for the inevitable examination. It was amazing how accustomed he was becoming to the process. Being poked and prodded in places he never dreamed left him very little dignity to cling to. 

“A sonogram will give us a better idea of how things are going.” He turned to give Xander a pointed stare. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Harris.”

Xander stood rooted to the spot. “All righty now, people. Do you think we can get a recap on just what’s going on around here? Because I’m getting that ‘slipped into the Twilight Zone’ kinda feeling, and for a guy raised on a Hellmouth, that’s really saying something.”

“Xander, could you please just check on the girls?” Wesley said softly, reliving his decision to leave them in the crypt. He would never forgive himself. He wished that Xander would leave. He found it impossible to face the young man after he acted so shamefully. He felt vulnerable enough without being stared at in his half-dressed condition. Aside from Doctor Kyarsky no one had seen his body in months. Even though he shared a room with Giles, he was careful to always stay covered. 

“Look, Wes, is something going on we need to know about?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he responded stiffly, not looking in his direction. “I would appreciate it if--”

“What the hell happened?”

A voice interrupted and he turned in surprise to find a breathless Giles standing in the doorway. 

“I didn’t expect you to rush over here in the middle of the night,” Wesley gasped. “We ran into a bit of trouble with a nest of vampires, but everything’s fine.” He looked at the doctor. “At least we think it is.”

“That does it.” Giles stormed into the room. “No more patrolling until we’ve found a solution for this problem. You’re not up to par and you’ve no business Slaying.”

“We’ve established that fact.” Wesley looked around at the room full of people and felt his skin begin to redden. He tried to cover himself with his arms.

The doctor retrieved his shirt and passed it to him. He turned and glared at the two men who’d invaded his office. “Would you gentlemen mind giving my patient and me some privacy so that I may continue my examination.”

“As I see it, Kyarsky, you’ve been no help at all.” Giles turned on the man. “I’ve located a shaman who has agreed to see us tomorrow evening. So if Wesley is fit enough to leave, we’ll be going.”

“Rupert.” Wesley slipped into his shirt, feeing more comfortable hidden from their prying eyes. “There’s something we need to discuss. I’ve come to a decision you may find somewhat controversial, and I wanted to talk to you in private about this matter.” He turned to give Xander a pointed look that the young man ignored. 

“We can discuss it back at the house after we’ve gotten the girls home. Buffy and Willow got home from their night classes about thirty minutes ago and I’m afraid from the looks of Dawn, we’re in for a row. We have two other patrols still out that haven’t reported back yet. Something tells me this is going to be a very long night.”

Wesley wrapped his arms around his abdomen and squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t going well. He had to tell Giles the truth about his decision and he couldn’t afford to wait. “Xander, would you please give us a moment alone?”

Finally, the young man relented, throwing up his hands in surrender. “Okay, don’t tell me what’s going on. I’ll check on the girls.” With that he spun on his heel and stalked from the room.

A deep silence fell in his wake that Wesley was loath to break. He drew a deep, calming breath and fought to find the words to convey to Giles the depth of his conviction that he was making the right decision despite the strangeness of the situation. An unexpected movement beneath his folded arms drew his attention and he realized the child was awake.

His child.

He raised his head and met the elder ex-watcher’s eyes, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Giles, I’m having this baby.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

The silence that fell was deafening. 

Their eyes locked and the minutes stretched until Wesley could no longer stand it. He opened his mouth to speak when Giles exploded. “Are you out of your mind!”

“Rupert, I--”

“Of course you’re out of your mind.” He continued more calmly. “This entity is influencing your emotions. It’s quite common in these cases. I realize that you probably think I’m being unreasonable because your perceptions have been altered, but trust me, Wesley, I have only your best interest in mind when I say we’re going to take care of this.”

“No.” He responded firmly. “I’m not ‘taking care of it.’ I’m having this baby. I’m not under the influence of some malevolent entity.”

“You can’t know that, Wesley. And I won’t sit back and allow you to do something that may cause you great harm as well as the rest of us.”

“Giles, this isn’t some demon that I’m carrying. It’s a child, a completely human looking child.”

“In appearance, perhaps.” Giles glared at Doctor Kyarsky. “You had no business showing this thing to him. You’re just making matters worse. Appearances can be quite deceiving. It must be destroyed.”

Wesley’s hopes sank that this issue was going to be resolved here tonight, with any degree of calm. He recalled with dismay his own steadfast resolve to destroy Cordelia’s unborn child despite her desire to preserve it. He couldn’t very well blame Giles, whose background and knowledge was similar to his own, for reaching the same conclusion that he would reach if he were faced with this same scenario. But it didn’t change the fact that his mind was made up. Since his arrival in Cleveland, Rupert Giles had been spared the hardened resolve of the man Wesley had become in the last few years. That was about to change. 

“I’m having this child,” he repeated firmly.

“Like hell you are.” Giles snapped. “This thing could be a threat to all our safety. We would have gotten it out of you a month ago when you first got here, if we could have discovered a way to remove it without risking your life. This has gone on way too long. If we wait much longer you won’t have any judgment left.”

“My judgment’s perfectly fine.” He felt his anger rising. “I know that you’re worried about me and about the well-being of the group. Believe me, I share your concern for the group and I would never do anything to risk their safety. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But I’m having this baby.”

“It isn’t a baby!”

“I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it! Giles, I can’t take the chance that it might be a perfectly normal human child. It’s possible, you know that it is, and if any chance exists that it’s even remotely human…”

“*Remotely* human? Do you hear yourself, Wes? You can’t possibly consider bringing such a creature into the world.”

“It isn’t a *creature.* Even if it turns out to be half human, that doesn’t negate its right to exist. I know you haven’t had as much practical experience dealing with demons and half-demons as I have. I can understand your reluctance to accept the fact that some of them can be quite similar to ourselves, but they can.”

“I’m not a fool,” he hissed. “I’ve dealt with all manner of demons over the years.”

“Rupert, please, let’s not argue about this. My mind’s made up.” Wesley forced himself to calm down. “I’m having this baby. I’m not risking the chance that I might be destroying my own flesh and blood or that of…” He pulled in his breath and looked away. He couldn’t think about Angel tonight. It was just too much to deal with on top of everything else. He forced the thought out of his mind.

“But you’ll willingly risk destroying yourself and the rest of us. You have no way of knowing how dangerous this entity might be. Just look at the enormity of what Cordelia brought into the world.”

“It’s my choice to make. I assure you, I’m not making this decision rashly. I fully intend to take precautions and safeguard you all from any risk. If we discover conclusively that the child is a threat, I’ll expect you to destroy us both without a moment’s hesitation.”

“Wesley, this is insane. Even if you did decide to have this child, we haven’t yet discovered a way to breach the protective placenta surrounding it without killing you! Every mystic we’ve consulted so far has told us that if we try, there’s a very good chance you’ll die.”

“Doctor Kyarsky and I discussed this and he feels there’s a very good possibly that once the child is ready to be born, the aura will dissipate on its own, allowing us to remove it by cesarean.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” Giles removed his glasses and began to rub the bridge of his nose, allowing himself to gain a measure of calm. “It seems we’re getting nowhere discussing this tonight. We need to get Dawn home before Buffy goes through the roof. I don’t have the reserves to deal with her tonight. We can discuss this tomorrow.”

“My mind’s made up,” Wesley repeated firmly, his nerves frayed to the point of breaking. He was battered, bruised, tired and concerned for the welfare of the tiny life his foolishness had endangered tonight. It was all beginning to catch up to him. He just wanted to go home and climb into bed.

“I’ll meet you at the car.” With that Giles declared the subject closed. He turned on his heel and with a glare toward Kyarsky, stormed out the door.

Too tired to debate the issue, Wesley slid from the table to his feet, thanked the doctor and slowly followed.

*~*~*~*~*

His heart was heavy when he started to leave the examining room. Giles had done so much for him this last month. Made him feel as if he belonged, as if he were needed, during the loneliest days of his life. Even when he was left alone and bleeding in the park and later left to recover on his own, bereft of those he called his family, Wesley hadn’t felt as alone as when Giles took him in. It hurt to know that the elder ex-watcher was disappointed in him. But the decision was made, whether Rupert realized it or not. No amount of discussion would change his mind.

Giles was waiting for him in the car.

He stepped into the waiting room and ran straight into Xander. He cringed. He would have thought the young man would be gone by now, heading back to the house he shared with Robin Wood. The ex-principal was teaching night classes at Cleveland University where Buffy and Willow were attending collage, and Xander usually wanted to get back from patrol about the same time Wood got home. Establishing simple patterns such as that was a small attempt at normalcy in their very abnormal lives. 

So why was he still here?

The last thing Wesley needed right now was a scathing dose of Xander’s typical sarcasm. It was just too much to deal with. His heart felt crushed in a vise and all he wanted to do was go home and sleep off the bruises and the pain. He knew he deserved the young man’s ire and animosity. Tonight, he let everyone down. But he just couldn’t face Xander’s cynicism.

He pushed past him without a word and headed for the door.

“Wes?” His voice softly followed.

“Look, Xander, we’ll discuss my fiasco in the crypt tomorrow.” He replied without turning, his hand on the knob, head slightly bowed. “I messed up. But right now, all I want is to get home and get a few hours sleep. Giles is waiting for me in the car with Dawn.”

“Why didn’t you say something, Wes? Did you think we were all too cold and heartless to understand? Is that really how low your opinion is of us?”

“What?” He turned in surprise and looked into Xander’s face. He was prepared for the young man’s typical sarcasm, what he was not prepared for was the look of concern on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m blind, for Pete’s sake, not deaf.” He jabbed a finger toward the door to the examining room. “Giles wasn’t exactly whispering in there.”

Wesley was at a loss for words, he didn’t know what to say. So he stood there feeling like a fool.

“Something’s going on with you, isn’t it? Something big. I knew it from the moment you showed up. Hell, we all did. But we’ve all been in so much pain ourselves that we were just trying to resettle our own lives. I didn’t have the time or energy to dwell too much on anyone’s problems but my own.”

“This isn’t your problem.” He turned to leave.

“We’re in this together. If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that none of us can afford to isolate ourselves from the rest of the group. Any time any of us have done that in the past, all hell breaks loose. We’re only strong if we stand together. You may not like hearing it, but it’s the truth. When you came here, Wes, you became part of the group. So your problems became ours.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he responded without turning. “But this is something I’m going to have to deal with on my own.”

“A guy having a baby’s a pretty big thing to deal with on his own.”

Wesley pulled in his breath. So the young man really did hear everything. He didn’t know what to say.

Xander filled the void. “Look. If things get too hairy over at your place, we can always make room for you at ours.”

Wesley’s jaw dropped and he turned to stare at Xander, dumbfounded. This was the last thing he expected to hear from the young man. He expected a wink and a quick “Got Ya.” But his face was solemn and sincere. 

“G-man’s been under a lot of stress lately. I know he’s probably weirded out by all this, but he’ll get over it. Life’s been crazy for him since we brought Buffy back from the dead. But he got over it. He’ll get over this too.”

“This is a joke, right?” He finally found his voice and uttered the first words that came to his mind. This night was getting crazier by the minute.

“No joke.” He shrugged. “I guess since you weren’t in Sunnydale these past few years, you might have forgotten that I was engaged to an ex-vengeance demon. Heck, I’m practically a demon magnet. I’m a little bit more laid back about these things than Giles. I messed up pretty bad with Anya.” A shadow passed over his features. “I regret a lot of things that happened between us, but I really, truly did love her. After all the weirdness and death I’ve seen these last few years, Buffy, Tara, Anya. I’m not going to knock the hand of fate if it chooses to actually bring a little “life” into our lives.”

Wesley caught his breath and fought to find words to reply. Sincerity was the last thing he expected from the young man with the patch who stood regarding him with an almost gentle expression. “We don’t know for a fact that this…this baby’s a demon. In fact, we’re not sure what it is. I’ve begun to sincerely doubt that it is a demon. There are things…things I haven’t even told Giles. I thought they weren’t relevant, but now I’m not so sure…”

“Doesn’t matter.” Xander shrugged. “The offer stands. Trust me, G-man will get over this. He always does. But if things get too hairy….well, the offer stands. Or if you ever just need to talk…” He trailed, the offer reflecting genuinely in the dark eye that regarded him not unkindly.

Wesley didn’t know what to say. The words stuck in his throat. Of all the things that had happened to him in the last seven months, this had to be the weirdest. Xander reaching out to him when the entire world had turned its back. He swallowed. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They exchanged a pair of manly, noncommittal nods to lighten the moment, then Wesley turned and slipped quietly into the night.


	6. 6/11

*~*~*~*~*

 

The angry sound of voices drifted up the stairs and into the darkened room where Wesley lay, fooling himself that he was actually going to get some sleep. Buffy and Dawn had been arguing for hours, Giles trying valiantly to referee. Wesley stayed briefly to try and intervene, but knowing that having an angry Buffy and an injured Wesley in the same room was a recipe for disaster, the elder ex-watcher sent him up to their room to get some much needed rest.

Buffy shot daggers into his back as he ascended the stairs.

They were still arguing. 

Dawn had preformed admirably tonight. The young woman was an excellent fighter. She deserved a chance to hone her skills. It was understandable that Buffy wanted to protect her sister, but the life of the Summers sisters would never be normal. Experience should have taught Buffy that Dawn’s only chance of surviving in this world was to come out fighting. In a sense, the Slayer legacy was as much Dawn’s legacy as Buffy’s. 

Dawn understood that. Buffy never would.

Sleep would not come. Wesley was tired and achy and the events of the night kept nipping at the edges of his mind. The vampires, his decision to leave his people behind…

If Buffy had known about that.

He cringed.

But Dawn’s discretion prevented the girl from mentioning that all-too-important fact to anyone. Still the memory and the shame burned into his gut, invading his thoughts, along with his altercation with Giles, and Xander’s unexpected words of encouragement, all crowding for attention in his mind. Never in his wildest dreams had he envisioned such a reaction from any of the Scoobies. Xander least of all. 

These young people never ceased to amaze him.

His situation was confusing, frightening and not a little embarrassing. He never expected any of them to understand, much less the wisecracking young man with the patch who’d matured a lot in the years since they first met…

The angry voices continued to invade this thoughts and it didn’t sound as if they were letting up any time soon. He wondered if anyone would be getting any sleep tonight. He took his pillow and put it over his head, but it only managed to impede his ability to breathe. He had an uncomfortable flashback of his night in the hospital when Angel tried to smother him and he tossed the pillow aside.

Angel.

He was determined not to think about that damned vampire or the implications of his possible relationship to the child he was carrying.

Wesley abruptly sat up and flipped on the lamp beside the bed; its yellow glow flooded his corner of the room. Giles had asked him to do a bit of research on Praeses demons. They suspected there was an infestation of them under a subdivision over in the Tremont district. So, since he wasn’t getting any sleep any time soon, now seemed as good a time as any. He reached for the drawer in the bed stand and pulled it open. Reaching inside, his fingers brushed the cover of the demonology text he kept next to the bed for just such sleepless nights. He pulled it out – and paused. 

Staring up at him from beneath the text was the cheerful cover of the Paddington book he purchased on impulse several nights before, with its whimsical bear in the blue coat, his head tilted quizzically. Wesley hesitated then laid the demonology text aside and withdrew the children’s book. He propped up his pillow and settled back on the bed, flipping through the colorful pages, looking at the smiling faces of the characters gazing up at him.

Paddington, it seemed, was going to the circus. Wesley recalled this tale; it was one of his favorites. His eyes passed over the words, not really reading but merely scanning. It was a simple, uncomplicated tale, bringing with it the memory of a far less complicated time, the first three years of his life before all the training, the responsibility and the mistakes. By age five, his Watcher training had begun and his carefree youth was gone. 

Suddenly, he found that he was no longer merely scanning the pages but had returned to the beginning of the book and was softly reading aloud, the resonance of his voice gently rising in the stillness of the room. He propped the book on the swell of his abdomen and continued to read, his hand subconsciously stroking his stomach. Something moved, pressing into his palm, and he paused, staring down at the mound. 

The movement stopped. 

He started to read again, and again the child moved.

Could it possibly be responding to the sound of his voice?

He began to read once more, and again the child kicked. Wesley realized that he was grinning foolishly at the lump that had once been his admirably flat stomach, and he felt his cheeks blaze with color. He gently stroked the mound. “You like this tale, don’t you, little one?”

The baby moved again and he continued to read louder, bringing inflection into his tone, giving the characters personality as he read of the exploits of Paddington’s exciting day at the circus. The child jumped, kicking him with such impatience he could actually see the movement. His eyes widened and he paused, watching the movement with rapt attention. “It would appear, you like this book…’your’ book,” he amended softly as he realized deep in his subconscious it was what his heart intended all along when he purchased it, but he hadn’t dared hope for. “Your first book.”

The child became so animated that he could actually see his stomach ripple, and impulsively he reached down and untied the drawstring on his pajamas, pushing them down to expose his stomach. For months, he avoided truly looking at himself. The distortion of his once almost painfully thin form seemed disgusting to him and somewhat frightening. But seeing the lively animation of the tiny being within him was totally captivating and he sat, enraptured, watching the child. His child. 

Placing his palm against the pale white mound, he gently stroked the movement beneath his skin. His eyes caught the purplish glare of the bruise where the vampire kicked him and he thought of how close he’d come tonight to losing his life. His own life never had much meaning to him. But the realization that his life was now irrevocably tied to that of another being, was a sobering thought. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, running his hand over the tiny creature that slowly stilled its movement as if settling into sleep. “At least one of us might get some rest tonight.”

Angry voices still drifted up the stairs. 

“I’ll read to you again tomorrow, little one.” He patted his exposed belly. “A Wyndam-Pryce learns to read almost before he learns to walk.” He laid the book aside, still stroking the child even though it had settled, and for a moment, he regarded his distorted body. It wasn’t so bad. Different, yes, but knowing what was just below the surface somehow made the anomaly bearable. His skin was pale, accentuating the angry bruise and the jagged scar from the gunshot wound on his side that was stretched and taunt because of the swelling of his stomach. He reached down and traced it with his finger, trailing down below the rounded abdomen rising above the drawstring of his pajamas; he gave the sleeping child a final squeeze.

A sound beyond the wall drew his attention and he realized that he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping. Willow and Kennedy were still awake and their subtle moans told him they, too, had found a way to pass the time. 

They weren’t reading. 

He tried to ignore their amorous groans, shutting out the sounds. But as usual, it was impossible. He rolled over onto his side and turned off the light. Closing his eyes he tried to sleep. 

A series of whimpers and sighs shot straight to his groin and he concluded the girls were trying to drive him insane. Someone cried out, and he tried to force the sounds from his mind, but the inevitable picture of two young, healthy females, doing what they were oh-so-obviously doing, invaded his mind, and he groaned in frustration. He considered getting out of bed and taking a handful of the herbal supplements Kyarsky gave him. They usually calmed his nerves and helped him to sleep, but the angry sound of voices drifting up the stairs convinced him to stay put.

He was hard as a rock and aching. 

A twisted part of his psyche couldn’t help but imagine the young ladies were only too aware of the effect they were having on him. How could they not be? The walls were paper-thin and the sound of their acrobatics left little to the imagination. He was so hard it was painful, and he was never going to get any sleep. So finally giving in to the only logical solution, he stole a glance toward the closed door and reached down beyond the swell of his cumbersome abdomen, past the waistband of his pajamas, and grasped himself firmly in his fist. He squeezed, and a sigh escaped his lips. 

“Sorry, little one,” he rasped, running his hand along his length. “I hope this doesn’t disturb your sleep.” 

The sounds beyond the wall rose in intensity, and he began to pump himself hard and fast. Solitude was as much a luxury as everything else in this house so there really wasn’t time to savor the moment. He listened to the moans as they grew louder and his own gasps rose to join them. It wasn’t hard to imagine what was going on in the other room, two beautiful women writhing beneath one another’s hungry mouths. He thrust into his fist, fast and furious, his hips pumping in rhythm to the groans beyond the wall. A twisted sort of syncopation joined them in a mutual drive for the ultimate release as he jerked himself harder and harder to the sounds, drawing closer to his own climax. Someone cried out and a shudder passed through his cock and up his spine, coaxing a deep moan from his throat as he pumped faster.

Reaching down with his other hand, he cupped his balls and gently tugged, almost sending himself over the edge. He always liked it when his lovers touched him that way and he closed his eyes, envisioning a faceless, nameless partner, touching him there. He refused to think of Angel. Wouldn’t think of Angel…

Angel’s face swam into his mind… 

Plunging deeply into the cool depths of a hard, firm body, yielding beneath his thrusts. Angel’s body. The vampire submitting to his demands… 

It pushed him over the edge. His body jerked and a groan tore from his throat as he exploded into his hand, releasing spasm after spasm of pent up frustration in one of the quickest orgasms he’d reached in some time. Collapsing, his heart raced wildly in his chest then slowly calmed as he drew deep breaths into his lungs. 

Someone giggled on the other side of the wall.

Struggling to sit up, he reached for a tissue to clean himself, then lying back, he pressed his hand to his stomach, his body still trembling and whispered, “Dear lord, is it possible that Angel truly is your father?”

He rolled onto his side and curled tightly into himself, staring into the darkness. He should have felt a sense of release. The frustration had been building for days. 

But he never felt so empty in all his life.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Confound it man, sometimes you’re as infuriating as the girls. I didn’t mean that I wanted you to move out just because we disagree about this.” Giles responded in frustration.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but my mind’s made up.” Wesley reached into the crate, shifted through the straw and carefully removed the brightly painted eighteenth century urn, sitting it aside.

“You don’t know your own mind right now, Wesley. You’re in no condition to make any rational decisions concerning this issue.”

“I’m not delusional nor am I under the influence of a demonic entity. My mind’s made up. I’m having this child.” He turned back to the crate they were unloading and reached down, withdrawing a jug. “I know you’re disappointed in me, but I can’t help that. There really isn’t room for compromise on this issue.”

“I’m sorry if I seem overly testy about this, this morning, but I didn’t get much sleep last night.” He took a deep breath, fighting to stay calm in the face of Wesley’s sudden resolve to bring this “miracle child” into the world. “Buffy’s still on a rampage. I thought I’d never get those two to give it up and go to bed last night.”

“About that.” Wesley picked up the Ukrainian Urn and studied it intently, avoiding looking directly at his companion. “I’m sorry about what happened with Dawn. I suppose it was presumptuous of me to take her on patrol, but it seemed to me that she needed the experience. She’s as good a fighter as any of the girls, at least as far as her technique is concerned. She can’t match Slayer strength, of course, but then neither can you or I.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Wes. I agree with you on this. Dawn’s as much a part of the group as any of us. I’ll admit that years ago the thought of civilians accompanying a Slayer on patrol was unthinkable to me. When Buffy first began including Xander and Willow, I didn’t know what to think. But there’s never been anything even remotely traditional about Buffy or any of us. That’s why she survived when any other Slayer would have passed the mantle years ago. Dawn won’t survive if she’s not taught to hold her own. Buffy’s just going to have to realize that.”

“Still, I know that I didn’t make things very pleasant for anyone last night by letting her accompany us.”

“Buffy’ll get over it. I’d just give her a little space for a few days if I were you. She’s looking for a target and you’ve always been a convenient one for her.”

Wesley nodded and began to examine a hairline crack in one of the pitchers they uncrated. These items needed to be cataloged before they could be placed on exhibit tomorrow. “Buffy’s acceptance of my presence has been tentative at best. I’m afraid I’ve just made matters worse.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, she’s just as pissed at Xander. So you aren’t alone.”

“Speaking of Xander.” Wesley hesitated then decided that now was as good a time as any to tell the elder ex-watcher that the young man knew about his current predicament. “He knows about the baby.”

Giles winced at the use of the term “baby.” “I suppose it was inevitable since it’s taken us this long to solve this problem. Thankfully, Zairian has agreed to see us this evening. He believes he may have a spell that would permit us to drop the protective aura around the fetus.”

“I told you, I’m not getting rid of it. Not to suit you. Not to suit anyone,” he repeated firmly, biting back his anger. “I don’t wish to appear ungrateful, Rupert, truly I don’t, but this issue is settled.”

“It can’t hurt to at least talk with Zairian, regardless of what you’ve decided.” Giles argued in frustration. “He might be able to offer us some insight into this situation that we don’t already have. Frankly I’m at my wit’s end. We’ve researched every possible resource we could get our hands on and we’ve still come up empty. How do we know this isn’t another manifestation of Jasmine?”

“I thought of that.” Wesley nodded. “In fact, it was the first thing I thought of, but I discarded the possibility. Jasmine was completely destroyed by Angel after he discovered her true name.” Mentioning the vampire brought a stab to his heart, but he quickly pushed it aside and moved on to more important matters, realizing that it was finally time to tell his friend a significant fact he’d failed to mention until now concerning the child’s possible origin. He steeled his nerves, laid the urn he was holding aside, and turned to face him. “Rupert, I can’t possibly consider destroying this child, not when there’s any possibility…” He swallowed hard.

“Possibility?”

“That it’s Angel’s.”

“Excuse me?” For a moment his expression was blank then a frown creased his forehead. 

“I might be carrying Angel’s child.” When Giles did not respond he hurried on, suddenly needing to fill the silence. “I just don’t know! I didn’t think it was possible. I rather hoped it was a coincidence. Hell, I wanted it to be a coincidence, but as you know, Angel already produced a son when such things shouldn’t be possible. I didn’t know what to think, so I--”

“Back up, Wes, slow down.” Giles threw up his hands. “I’m only catching half of what you’re saying. Angel? What do you mean Angel? What’s he got to do with any of this…?” He trailed at the look on Wesley’s face and continued as the realization slowly dawned. “You? Angel?”

He felt his cheeks color. Even during the best of circumstances, Wesley found it prudent to exercise discretion when revealing his bisexuality to others, but Giles had trusted him, opened his home to him. He was sharing a bed with the man, for god’s sake! He had no way of knowing how he would react to this particular tidbit of information. “Yes…well, we both know it’s a biological impossibility for two males to produce offspring. So I reasoned that there couldn’t possibly be an organic correlation between…well, between our encounter and the baby’s conception. This is clearly a supernatural event, but it doesn’t negate the possibility that this could actually be Angel’s child.”

“And you didn’t think this bit of information might be relevant enough for you to mention! Why didn’t you tell me that you and Angel were involved in a relationship?”

“It wasn’t a ‘relationship.’ It was…it was, an encounter. A single encounter that shall never be repeated, I assure you. I didn’t want it to be relevant, but I can no longer ignore the possibility that it might be. God, this is just such a mess. I’m sorry, Giles, believe me, I am. I didn’t mean to be dishonest with you. I know I should have told you everything from the very beginning. I realize that my sexuality can be an issue and I’ll understand if you want me to move out.”

“Move out! Where did that come from? When did I give you the impression that I wanted you to move out? I’m a little ticked that you didn’t give me all the facts up front, but I never said anything about wanting you to move out.”

“Well, I…you know, some people, they’re uncomfortable--”

“I’m not ‘some people,’” He interrupted angrily. “I’m your friend. At least I thought I was. I’ll admit the thought of you and Angel. Well, let’s just say, it’s not my favorite visual, but then I’ve been uncomfortable with the thought of Angel with anyone since the Buffy debacle. Angel and I came to an understanding after the events of those few tragic months, but our relationship has been an uneasy one at best. The thought that you’ve been holding this inside all these weeks since you got here, that you didn’t trust me enough to let me help you deal with it. That has me more pissed than any encounter you might have had with Angel or anyone else for that matter. If you’re gay, Wesley, that’s the least of our concerns right now. Actually, I’ve suspected as much since Sunnydale.”

“I’m not gay,” he corrected softly. “I’m bisexual. And quite frankly, most people I’ve known are uncomfortable with that bit of information. Especially men. Men I’m sleeping with, even more so…” He trailed when he realized how that sounded. “That’s not exactly how I meant for that to come out. But most men tend to start worrying that I’m ‘checking them out,’ when I tell them.”

“I understand what you meant. I repeat, I’m not concerned about your sexuality. What bothers me is that you’ve been harboring this secret that’s been eating you up inside for weeks and you didn’t trust me enough to share it with me. If you have feelings for Angel, I can understand that you might be reluctant to terminate this pregnancy if you believe there’s a chance this, this…whatever it is, belongs to him.”

“It’s a child, Rupert,” he insisted. “And I don’t have feelings for Angel. It was a single, regrettable encounter that I shall never repeat, not a relationship by any stretch of the imagination. But you’re correct, Angel and I were friends, at least I thought we were, and I can’t see myself clear to destroying this child if it’s his.”

“I don’t mean to seem indelicate, but this ‘encounter’ with Angel. I gather there was penetration involved.”

“You would gather correctly.”

The elder ex-watcher sighed and shook his head. “Then I can see how you might have drawn this conclusion. But even so, that’s no guarantee there’s any correlation between the two events.”

“There’s no guarantee there isn’t and I just can’t take that risk.”

“I appreciate how you feel, Wesley. But you could very well die because of this.” Giles responded solemnly. “Every mystic we’ve consulted has told us the exact same thing. If we try to breach the placenta, you’ll die. Even if you do carry to term, there’s no guarantee you’d survive the birth. I can’t let you take that risk.”

“It’s not your decision to make.” Wesley told him firmly. “I know this isn’t easy for someone like you to understand. You had a long, successful career as a Watcher, in spite of your unorthodox methods. You’re loved and respected by all the people around you. I, on the other hand, have bumbled everything I’ve ever attempted. My fiasco with Faith and Buffy in Sunnydale, my so-called Rogue Demon Hunting days, my relationship with my friends in L.A. Hell, I even cost my best friend his son! Can you imagine knowing your only son is living, trapped in a hell dimension because of your so-called best friend? I’m surprised Angel can even look me in the eye. It’s no wonder he’s disgusted by what happened between us…” Wesley pulled in his breath and looked away. This conversation wasn’t going where he intended it to go. It was becoming way too personal and painful. “I have nothing to show for my life but one failure after another. But this, this isn’t going to become another failure. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. I have to have this child, Rupert. It’s fated to be born and I’m the one fated to bring it into the world. Even if it kills me.”

Giles stood regarding him with a look of deep concern on his face. For a moment, he didn’t reply. “You aren’t a failure.” He said finally. “You’ve made mistakes, we all have. But that doesn’t make you a failure. The very idea that you would consider your life to be worthless because of the things that have gone wrong is utter rubbish. I can’t help but wonder if you don’t consider this misfortune to be a form of penance you’ve been chosen to pay. I can’t sit back and let you do that, Wes. I’m sorry, truly I am, but you’re not thinking clearly, so as your friend, I’m going to have to do it for you. We’re seeing Zairian tonight whether you want to or not.”

“You can’t force me.” Wesley knew that he sounded like a petulant child, but he wasn’t backing down.

“I’ll have Buffy and Kennedy drag you there if I have to. But one way or another, you’re going.”

The idea of being manhandled by Buffy and the young woman he’d had pseudo-sex with the night before only escalated his anger. “If you force me to, Rupert, I’ll leave. I’m not going to risk anyone interfering with the normal development of…”

“Anyone up for pizza?”

The two men stalled in their discussion and turned toward the door to find Xander standing there, a pizza box balanced on his hand. He held it up. “Pineapple and bacon?”

“Pizza’s fine.” Wesley pushed past Giles and headed for the door. “This conversation’s over.”

“It’s not over!” The elder ex-watcher called after him. “We’re going to see Zairian.”

“Go to hell.” He slammed the door behind him. 

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Giles will mellow out. He always does.” Xander stuffed an impossibly large slice of pizza into his mouth and began to chew.

Wesley sat staring at the pizza setting on the picnic table beneath the old oak tree outside the museum, without really focusing on it. How could things have gone so bad? 

“Would it really hurt you to see this shaman?”

Wesley gave him a look of disbelief. 

“Seriously, Wes. This guy might be able to help you.”

“By killing this child!” The words ripped from his lips. “I won’t hear of it.”

“Whoa up there. That’s not what I meant. I just meant this guy might know something the others don’t. You know, about how this all happened or what to expect. We don’t know that he’s hell-bent on harming it.” Xander reached for a second slice and began to scarf it down. “It can’t hurt to find out. Giles seems to have a lot of faith in him.”

“Giles simply wishes to remove this little inconvenience from my life.”

“That’s harsh. Really harsh.” He responded in-between bites. “You know he’s just worried about you. But look, if you want to keep this baby, I’m all for it. That’s your decision to make.”

Wesley sat and stared at the young man in amazement. He actually referred to the child as a ‘baby,’ something he, himself, had been unwilling to do until recently. “I know he’s only concerned about me.” He conceded. “But, I’m afraid, we’re never going to agree on this issue.”

“So be it.” Xander shrugged and took another bite. “Just move over to our place until this blows over.”

“It’s not going to ‘blow over,’ Xander. He’s convinced this child is a threat to all mankind.”

“So? We’ve faced those kinds of threats thousands of times. After awhile you get used to it. Trust me, he’ll accept whatever decision you make. We all will. Just give it time.”

Wesley stared at the young man dumbfounded. How could he be so nonchalant about all of this? But then, the boy had grown up on a hellmouth, had a Slayer as a best friend, and almost married an ex-vengeance demon. Wesley greatly underestimated this young man. It was comforting to know that he had the support of at least one member of the group. He could just imagine Buffy’s reaction to this situation. He was already on her short list of people she’d be least likely to pull from a burning building, and after last night, things weren’t looking any brighter. He wasn’t looking forward to her finding out. “You’re fortunate you missed Buffy’s reaction to Dawn’s black eye, last night. I’m not exactly her favorite person, right now. But, I guess, it’s inevitable that everyone will find out sooner or later.”

He hadn’t really considered all the long-term “what ifs,” inherent in his decision to have this baby. His mind just sort of stopped at the decision to allow it to be born, without moving on to the fact that it was a life that would come into the world requiring all the warmth, love, food and clothing that any newborn needed. 

“My lord,” he gasped. “I haven’t really thought about this at all. It’s been so surreal that I haven’t even made any plans.”

“So? Start making them.” Xander started to take another slice of pizza then paused and pushed the piece under Wesley’s nose. “First off, you gotta eat. Starving yourself’s a big no no. You’re way too skinny. The kid’s gotta have nutrition. Secondly, no more patrolling.”

“We’ve already established that fact.” He reached for the pizza and began to eat, taking Xander’s advice to heart. He would have to start watching his nutrition. “And about last night…in the crypt. What I did was deplorable…”

“What you did was try to save someone else’s life. I didn’t know that at the time. So, yeah, I was hot. But I would have done the same thing. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Now, that, I fault you for, but the rest…” He slowly shook his head. “It’s human instinct to protect your child.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I haven’t been thinking straight since this whole thing began. I mean, what sort of crazy person fights vampires when they’re carrying a child! It just hasn’t been *real* to me. In fact, it’s only begun to become real since I started discussing it with you. I haven’t had anyone to really talk to. To Giles and me, it’s been an enigma to research and investigate, never a real person. But to you it’s been a baby from the very beginning.”

“We’ll that’s what it is, isn’t it? A baby. And if I remember correctly, babies need lots of junk. Have you started hording junk yet? I guess it’s a sort of nesting instinct or something because my aunt Clare collected so much junk before she had her first kid that they had to build an extra room onto the house, just for the junk.”

“Junk?” Wesley frowned in confusion. 

“You know bottles, dippers, strollers?”

His eyes grew wide. “I hadn’t even considered such things. I purchased a book, but it was more of a subconscious decision than an overt one.”

“Only you.” Xander rolled his one good eye and took another bite of his pizza. “What is it with you Watcher types and books? The poor kid’ll probably have so many books he’ll need glasses before his first birthday. We’re really gonna have to take an evening off from Slaying and spend some time at the mall, getting this kid some decent stuff.”

Wesley sat and stared at Xander without saying a word. This just wasn’t happening. Not only had Xander fully accepted the improbable fact that the man sitting across the table from him was going to actually have a baby, but he was already taking an active interest in its welfare, more so, in fact, than even Wesley. He was touched but didn’t know how to put it into words. 

“Wesley, I’m sorry that I upset you.”

The voice came from over his right shoulder and he turned to see Giles standing there, a look of concern on his face. “My mind’s made up.” Wesley said firmly.

Giles gave him a solemn nod. “I can see that. We’ll agree to put off seeing Zairian until you’re comfortable with the idea.”

“Hey, G-man,” Xander piped up. “I’ll trade you one Andrew for one Wusley.”

Giles considered the offer and then shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”

Wesley’s eyes widened in surprise.

“It’s a done deal.” Xander turned to the astonished ex-watcher. “We’ve got three rooms at our place. The girls all share one, so you can bunk with me. Unless, of course, you’d rather double with Robin, but just between us, the guy snores big-time. He could wake the dead. If we’d had him around when we resurrected Buffy, we wouldn’t have needed Willow.”

Wesley didn’t know what to say. Everything was happening way too fast. He turned and stared at Giles. His earlier confession must have made the elder ex-watcher more uncomfortable than he let on. He wasn’t surprised, but he was a bit disappointed. 

Giles must have read it in his face because he quickly spoke up. “You don’t have to leave, Wes. I just thought that with Buffy on the rampage, you might want to get away for a few days or a few weeks. Believe me, I’d get out if I could.”

Xander chuckled. “Wes hasn’t been here long enough to know the way things work around here.”

“The way things work?” He repeated, feeling stupid, as if the two men around him were sharing a private joke at his expense.

“Sure. People switch houses all the time. We never know which girls are going to end up where. They have little tiffs and the next thing we know a whole new set is sitting at the breakfast table. Believe me, Giles isn’t tossing you out or anything.”

“Oh,” he responded dumbly, unable to think of anything else to say.

Xander turned to Giles. “You sure agreed to the trade quickly enough. I expected to have to duke it out with you.”

“It was what you children call a ‘no brainer.’” Giles replied with a wink. “Andrew can cook.”


	7. 7/11

*~*~*~*~*

 

Wesley sat at the kitchen table, books spread across its well-worn top, his head bent over the demonology text he’d been pouring over for the last few hours. He paused and rubbed his eyes, suddenly missing the familiar weight of his glasses since he’d started wearing contacts. Giles was certain there were Praeses demons living under a subdivision in the Tremont district, but now, Wesley wasn’t so sure. Various patrols brought back an assortment of telltale evidence, but no eyewitness sightings. Various paraphernalia: Praeses glow stones, daggers embossed with the depiction of their holy symbols, were all the evidence the patrols uncovered. 

“Find anything useful?” Xander popped his head through the swinging French doors. 

Wesley gave a start and turned toward the door. He thought he was alone in the house. Robin was teaching his classes and the others were out Slaying.

“Sorry I startled you.” Xander moved into the room and plopped down at the table. 

“I thought you were out patrolling.”

“Giles sent two groups out earlier in the evening from his place and ours left about an hour ago from here, but I decided to take the night off. You stay so absorbed in those books of yours; I’m not surprised you didn’t notice. In the week since you moved in, we hardly ever see you. Your head’s always in a book.”

“Being relieved of my obligation to make rounds, has left me with plenty of time to co-ordinate our efforts.” He pushed a big, dusty tomb in Xander’s direction. “Since you’re free this evening, you can assist me.”

“Oh no you don’t.” He backed away as if the book were going to bite him. “You’ve got the wrong man. Research is not my game. Besides, I need to preserve what vision I have left.” He reached up and tapped his ever-present black eye patch. 

“Xander, I hope you don’t think it too terribly forward of me to inquire, but if your eye socket has healed sufficiently, why haven’t you considered a prosthetic?” He noticed in the week since he moved in that Xander even slept wearing the inevitable eye patch. 

Xander grinned, leaned near and flipped up the patch. 

Two perfect brown eyes twinkled back at Wesley. 

He gasped in surprise and the young man winked then popped the patch back into place, saying, “You’re not the only one with secrets around here. I’ve had it for months but never told anybody.”

Wesley laughed and shook his head. The young man was an enigma he could never hope to understand.

“This place seems too empty with everyone gone,” Xander commented, looking around the small kitchen. “Let’s get out of here and hit the mall. I hear the Galleria downtown is huge. This place is soooo much bigger than ole Sunnydale, with so many things to see, so many things to do. And the malls are beyond belief. I’ve never seen so many malls. On my way into work I can see the Galleria and it’s all I can do to keep my car headed in the right direction.”

Wesley stared at the young man, astonished that anyone could get so excited just thinking about shopping malls. Well, maybe Cordelia. 

Xander offered him a sheepish grin. “I think I inherited a couple of girly genes. But don’t you dare tell anyone. I’ve got the dreaded shopping gene. Normally, you wouldn’t notice. I mean, come on already, my best friends have always been girls. So I always looked all manly and such when they drug me out to the mall. It was like pleeeese no, not the mall! But now that we work all day and Willow and Buffy are in school at night, it’s kinda like I’m going though withdraw or something.”

“While I sympathize with your dilemma, I really need to continue my research.” Wesley bent his head over the book once more. “The latest patrol to search the Tremont area brought back a--”

“I could go into convulsions, you know. Withdraw is an ugly, ugly thing.” He contorted his face to make his point. “Besides, we need to get out and pick up Little Watcher Jr. The Next Generation, a thing or two.”

Wesley almost dropped the book he had propped in his hands and stared at the young man. Baby things. His heart fluttered in his chest. The total nonchalance with which Xander viewed his situation was a breath of fresh air. 

“All research and no play makes Watcher-Boy a dull, dull Daddy.”

‘Daddy.’ 

Wesley pulled in his breath. “I rather fancied myself a “Father” rather than a daddy.” He commented softly. “But now that I think about it. I believe I would much rather be a daddy.”

Xander grinned. “Yeah, father screams “Stuffy Dude.” A daddy is someone who takes ya to ball games and lets you eat too many hotdogs.”

“Xander, does everything relate back to food for you?” He couldn’t help inquire. 

“Speaking of which. I just bet they have one of those pretzel stands at the Galleria, and maybe an Orange Julius.” He was warming to the topic. 

“I gather that was a yes.” He bent back to his studies.

“Come on, already.” Xander slapped his shoulder. “Do you really want little Wusley Jr. to grow up as dull as his daddy?”

There was that world again. “Daddy.” It sounded better every time he heard it. Wesley raised his head and met the young man’s eager gaze. 

Responsibility should always come first. He really needed to pull his weight. Giles wanted Buffy to live as normal a life as possible and she hardly patrolled any more. So with two of the girls in evening classes and Wood working nights, his absence from the field weighed heavy on his mind. He really shouldn’t indulge in frivolity when there was work to be done…

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

The mall was huge.

Not as large as many of the L.A. malls, but Wesley seldom spent any leisure time shopping in L.A. Cordelia drug him to a few that first year, but that was an experience best forgotten, and he could vividly recall chasing a Ferral demon through one once. But that was just about the extent of his adventures at the mall.

Xander was in consumer heaven.

“I really was going through withdrawal.” He marveled at the multitude of shops and throngs of people milling past. “This is way better than the place where Rebecca works. I’ve got to stock up on video games.” He dashed off in the direction of a shop, calling over his shoulder, “I’m sure you’ve heard of those things.”

Wesley ignored the chide and followed him into the store. He recalled his Play Station back in L.A. and the hours he whiled away in the company of Charles. The closest thing to a best friend he ever had. It seemed a lifetime ago, before his life went to hell in a basinet, bleeding out in a deserted park. Long before his foolish crush on a doe-eyed Winifred and the ill-fated abduction of his friend’s baby. Mistake piled upon mistake. The legacy of the life of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.

“I have to have this one!” Xander interrupted his thoughts, pulling him off in the direction of an interactive game where the participates were car jackers. “It’s kind of nice to be the bad guy once in awhile.” He scooped it up and stared at the cover. “Always being Mr. Squeaky Clean in real life gets to be old. Besides, it’s always the bad guy who ends up with all the girls. Heck, Spike bagged half of SunnyHell, Buffy included, before it got sucked down.”

Wesley stood and stared at him. “William the Bloody? And Buffy?”

“Yeah. They were pretty hot and heavy there for awhile.” He made his purchase and they headed back out into the mainstream of patrons. “Even though she hasn’t said anything, I think she’s taking his death pretty hard. I’ll never understand that girl’s preoccupation with the undead. First Angel then Spike.” He shuddered and headed toward a pretzel kiosk. “I can’t decide which was worse, Deadboy or the peroxide loser who had sex with my ex on camera.”

And Wesley thought their adventures in L.A. were interesting. 

Xander purchased a pretzel, but Wesley declined and they wandered back out into the mall.

“I guess if I had to choose between the two of them,” he continued his story. “I’d have to choose Spike. At least the guy gave his life for someone other than himself. Somehow, I can’t see Deadboy doing that.”

“You really don’t know Angel at all.” Wesley found himself defending Angel in spite of everything. “He’s devoted his life or rather his unlife, to helping others. He’s made mistakes but he would give his life in a second to save the people he cares about.” Wesley was surprised by his sudden need to defend the vampire who’d all but abandoned him since their night together. But he knew that what he was saying was true. Despite their relationship or lack of one, Angel was a true champion. 

“Whatever.” Xander shrugged and chomped on his pretzel dipped in cheese. “Sure you don’t want one of these?”

“Positive.”

“I guess it’s no secret that Angel isn’t on my Sprint friends and family calling list.” Xander continued to munch as they passed by storefronts, gazing into the windows. “I saw what he did in Sunnydale. The pain he caused. I remember Jenny and how busted up Giles was when I found him.”

“But that wasn’t Angel.” Wesley protested. “He’s not to blame for the actions of Angelus.”

“So you say, but I’m not so sure I buy it. It seems way too convenient. I wouldn’t mind having an alter ego that I could blame all my mistakes on. Hey Anya, left at the altar? Don’t blame me. That was Xan-gelus! But if you ask me, even with the soul thing, he can still be a real son of a bitch, even without the Angelus part. I never trusted the guy.”

Wesley felt compelled to defend the vampire but found himself increasingly uncomfortable with the subject. He didn’t like to think about Angel, much less discuss him. Yes, even with a soul Angel could be a son of a bitch, but couldn’t they all? The vampire was also capable of great compassion and a penchant for self-sacrifice. Wesley was in awe of his erstwhile companion when he first hit L.A. and he was forever bumbling around trying to gain his favor. 

It would seem he failed.

“Hey, check it out.” Xander drew to a halt in front of a little shop full of infants and toddler wear. “Kid’s Gap. Just the place we need.”

Wesley hesitated, wanting to move on, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. But Xander grabbed his arm and tugged him on into the store. “It’s time for you to start getting little Watcher Jr. some first class junk.”

Wesley stalled in the center of the store and found his feet were frozen to the floor. Soft pastels assaulted his senses from ever angle of the store, pinks, blues, yellows and greens. 

“Look at this!” Xander dashed past him to a rack and snatched up a pair of miniature denim overalls, holding them up. “No kid’s wardrobe is complete without a pair of these. This place has a little bit of everything. Bet we could even find the little sprout a suit and tie, just like daddy.”

Wesley stood rooted to the spot, still unable to move. His eyes were locked on the tiny pair of overalls that Xander held up with such obvious joy. He swallowed and found he couldn’t speak over the lump in his throat. 

“Sir, can I help you?” A young woman appeared at his elbow, a pleasant expression on her face.

“You sure can.” Xander piped up. “We’ll take these. But we want to look around some more.”

Wesley still hadn’t said a word nor moved from his spot in the center of the store. Several people turned and stared as they walked around him.

“We’ll need one of these, too.” Xander was fooling around with a bottle warmer. Then he turned to Wesley and winked. “Unless you plan on breastfeeding.”

Wesley felt his cheeks blush scarlet and the sales clerk giggled.

“I take it, you’re going to be a father?” She turned to him.

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he stared at the bottle warmer.

“He’s the proud papa to be, all right.” Xander continued at full throttle. “We’ll take this, too.” Then he dashed off, gathering up a varied assortment of items. A blanket. A rattler. A baby carrier. “There’s a ton of stuff you’re gonna need, Wes, but this’ll get you started.”

Wesley stood staring at the growing pile of baby items on the counter. He reached out and took the tiny overalls in his hands. They were so incredibly small, like something a doll would wear. He thought of the fragile life growing inside of him and the innocent child he’d lost to Holtz’s treachery and the arrogance of his own pride. Without realizing it, his hand went to the swell of his stomach concealed beneath his shirt. He felt an inexplicable burning in his eyes and blinked it away. This was just too much.

“Will you be putting this on your Gap Card?” The young woman was asking.

Wesley stood and stared at her without saying a word. 

Xander reached over and slipped his hand into Wesley’s pocket, withdrew his wallet and pulled out his charge card, handing it to the woman. “Visa,” he announced.

The woman rang it up and Xander wandered off, still perusing the store. By the time the woman was finished, Xander had returned. Wesley was surprised to see he’d located a stuffed Paddington Bear that he plopped onto the counter. He hadn’t expected the Gap to carry such an item. He reached for his wallet to retrieve his card but Xander stopped him, pulling out his own wallet.

“This one’s on me.”

Wesley stood in surprise and watched him pay for the item. Then Xander turned and held it out for him to accept. 

Wesley hesitated.

“This one’s from Uncle Xan.” He held it out again.

Numbly, he accepted the little bear. It was all too much. He couldn’t believe any of this was happening but least of all that Xander was treating him with such warmth and kindness. His eyes began to sting…

He pushed past the young man and out of the store.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Wesley’s feet carried him until he found himself at the food court surrounded by crowds of people. He located a table and sank down into a plastic chair, staring into nowhere, his packages scattered beneath the table at his feet.

“You really aren’t much of a shopper, are you?”

He looked up and found Xander standing there staring down at him.

“What you need is a little food in you. You don’t eat enough to keep a mouse alive. Sometimes I think you starve yourself on purpose. Let me go grab you a Big Mac and fries or something.” He looked off and scanned the various eating-places surrounding the food court. “You’ll feel better once you get your blood sugar up.”

Wesley shook his head and finally found his voice. “I’m not hungry, really.”

“That’s not the point. You need to think of the little sprout. You really can’t keep starving yourself, Wes. A smart guy like you, you know it isn’t healthy for the baby.” Xander admonished.

Wesley realized his words were true. He did have a tendency to starve himself. The roots of his behavior were planted in his own youth when food was denied as a punishment for poor performance. A stint under the stairs was guaranteed to bring with it the inevitable gnaw of hunger in his gut. He learned to associate the feeling of emptiness with his responsibility to perform. So it was not unusual for him to go for hours without eating if he was researching or working. But now there was another life to consider. He resolved in his heart that his child would never know hunger as a punishment or for any other reason if he could help it.

He finally nodded his assent. Xander was right, he did need to pay closer attention to his eating schedule. “Somehow, I am dubious as to the nutritional value of a Big Mac and chips.”

“Naw, you’ve got all the major food groups slammed into one convenient, juicy, sloppy lump with a yummy veggie on the side. Besides, you need to start introducing the little beggar to the good things in life right off the bat.”

Sweets and frivolous indulgences were frowned upon in the Wyndam-Pryce household. Food was something one ate to survive. He often marveled at the pastries and puddings present in abundance at his cousins’ homes and later as an adult he developed a deep affection for jelly donuts, but he still felt guilty when he ate one. Yes, his child did deserve to be introduced to the ‘good things in life.’ Even if he and Xander might disagree as to their individual interpretations of just what that meant. 

He didn’t prevent the young man from leaving when he got up from the table and headed off toward the Golden Arches.

Minutes later, Xander returned with two Big Macs, a mountain of steaming fries and a couple of shakes. Flopping down across from the ex-watcher, he began to munch on the fries. Wesley marveled that the young man was still capable of consuming anything, much less the mound of food piled in front of him. But he chewed merrily away. 

Wesley stared at the little box setting on the table in front of him, and his stomach began to growl. He popped open the lid and the aroma that filled the air reminded him just how hungry he really was. The hamburger was sloppy but tasty, and the baby apparently liked it as well, because it woke and expressed its appreciation with a good kick to the ribs. Wesley gave a start and paused, placing a hand against his stomach. 

Xander noticed the reaction and paused between bites. “Is something wrong?”

Wesley shook his head and resumed his meal. The baby, on the other hand, resumed its acrobatics, turning summersaults from what he could tell. It had been sleeping for hours and was apparently ready to tango. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was carrying a potential Slayer around in his gut. He suddenly felt a great deal of sympathy for all the mothers of the world who endured such things everyday. Most of them did not have the added advantage of being over six feet in height, to give their babies plenty of room to grow. 

That’s when the thought occurred to him – Was he a mother? What constituted motherhood? Clearly he was carrying this child, but he didn’t feel like a mother. Instinctively, he considered himself to be a father. Did this child have two fathers? The quandary brought him back to the issue of the child’s “other” father and the distinct possibility that it was Angel.

His heart tightened in his chest.

A deep part of his soul wanted to continue to deny the possibility. He’d denied it for months. Just as he denied the possibility that this entity was even a child at all. The baby flipped again and his heart began to flutter. Was this truly Angel’s child he was carrying? He suddenly wanted it to be his and his alone. Not Angel’s. Yet, he’d sworn to every nameless, faceless deity in the universe, that he would give his very life if he could return Angel’s son to him. Had one of those deities answered those pleas? It was madness, sheer madness, but this entire situation was so beyond the pale that anything was possible.

The baby kicked again. Hard.

“Holy shit!”

A voice from across the table drew his attention, and Wesley looked up into Xander’s astonished face. 

“What was that?” Xander asked, his attention fixed on Wesley’s stomach. “I swear, I just saw something move. Is that possible?”

“Apparently.” Wesley looked down at the slight mound beneath his shirt. The baby kicked again and his stomach jumped. He pressed his hand gently against the spot and the baby pushed back.

Xander sat spellbound, his gaze locked on the subtle motion. “I really did see that, didn’t I? That’s amazing. Is that going on all the time?”

Wesley shook his head. “Thankfully, the baby sleeps most of the time, but something apparently has him excited.”

“Maybe he’s addicted to Big Macs.” Xander grinned. “Kid’s got taste, unlike his old man.”

Wesley ignored the comment and pressed his stomach again, gently massaging the area, surprised to find that he was actually hoping for a response. He was rewarded with another violent kick.

Xander laughed and jumped up from his chair, moving around the table to Wesley’s side. “Let me feel!”

Before he could think to protest, his companion dropped to his knees next to his seat and pressed his hand against his abdomen. The baby cooperated by giving a stiff kick and Xander broke into an earsplitting grin. 

“Too cool!”

Wesley sat frozen; unable to think of anything to say, shocked by this turn of events. He stared at the young man knelling next to him, his hand pressed against his stomach. Xander had a silly grin on his face.

Several diners turned in their direction and frowned.

That’s when Xander looked up and suddenly realized this was soooo not what he wanted to be caught doing to another man in a downtown shopping mall in Cleveland. He offered Wesley a sheepish expression and slowly removed his hand. Wesley was still in shock at the unexpected familiarity and stared wide-eyed at the young man knelling by his side. This entire evening had such a surreal quality to it that he didn’t know what to say.

The baby moved again and instinctively he placed a hand against the tiny life growing inside him. A smile tipped the corner of his mouth.

Xander reluctantly rose to his feet.

“Why are you doing this?” Wesley finally found the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing him. 

“Sorry.” Xander offered him an embarrassed smile. “I shouldn’t have done that. I mean, I don’t want you to think I go around grabbin’ guys or anything….ah, especially the ‘or anything’ part. I mean, just because my best friend’s gay, it doesn’t mean…”

“That wasn’t what I was talking about.” He interrupted. “This…all of it. Opening your home to me. Everything you’ve done. It’s not like we were ever friends.”

“Ah, that.” Xander shrugged and sat back down. “Look. I’m not really sure myself why I feel the way I do. So much has happened this last year. I’ve made so many damned mistakes. I’m not the same person I used to be. None of us are. What we went though…it changed us. I miss Anya. I swear to god, I miss her more than I ever dreamed I could. I don’t ever talk about it, but if I could undo the things I did…the way I did it, I would. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we seldom get second chances, so those days are gone for good. But from here on out I can make the most of what life I have left. This new little life, well maybe it represents a new beginning for all of us in this new place. Anyway, that’s how I choose to look at it.”

“I still don’t understand why you’ve been so terribly kind to me” The depth of emotion behind the simple words was difficult for Wesley to express. It left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. Something that he instinctively avoided at all costs. The cool reserve he erected to protect himself after the Connor fiasco seemed to have eroded since he found himself in this predicament and he felt as inept and stammering as when he first arrived in the States.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, Wes. You’ve changed a lot, too. Willow told us that you had when she came back from her little side trip to resoul Deadboy, but I didn’t believe her. When you showed up here, I still didn’t believe her. Now I know what she was talking about. Truthfully, if you were even half the prat you were in your Sunnydale days I wouldn’t give you the time of day. But you’re just not that guy anymore and neither am I.”

“No.” He agreed. “You’re changed a great deal.”

“Well, it kind of helps that we aren’t both eyeing the same girl.” 

Wesley frowned. “Same girl?”

“You know, Cordy. I really had it in for you the minute she started making goo goo eyes your way.” He laughed. “I remember the time I told Oz how you had your Pierce Brosnan eyes all over her….” He trailed at the look on Wesley’s face, and his cheeks slightly flushed. “Not that I meant anything by that, mind you. You know, not that I was noticing how 007 you looked in those suits. That was how Cordy viewed you…” He swallowed hard and suddenly became interested in his Big Mac that had gotten cold.

“I assure you, Xander. Your comment did not give me the impression that you were ‘noticing’ me.” Wesley responded quietly when he suddenly realized that he needed to be honest with the young man if he was going to continue living under his roof. If things of this nature made Xander as ill-at-ease as they seemed to, he owed it to him to let him know the truth. “There’s something about me that I think you should know.”

Xander looked up from his hamburger, clearly intrigued by the change of tone in Wesley’s voice. “Yeah?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you seem uncomfortable with the concept of two men being attracted to one another.”

“Ah…well, not uncomfortable exactly. I mean, it’s not something I really ever think about. You know, two guys…well, you know, doin’ stuff. Two girls, now *that* I think about. A lot. Heck, my best friend’s gay. You bet ya I think about that. I mean, what red-blooded American male wouldn’t. Willow and Kennedy, you have to have noticed how hot and heavy those two are for each other.” 

“Yes…well.” Wesley cleared his throat, recalling only-too-well how hot and heavy those two young ladies were. “Giles and I shared a bedroom next to theirs. I noticed.”

“Lucky you.”

“I suppose you could say that.” He forced the memory from his thoughts. Now was not the time to risk the inevitable reaction such thoughts might produce. “So it’s safe to say that Willow’s same-sex relationship doesn’t offend you.”

“Honestly, it threw me at first, I mean she had a crush on me for as far back as I could remember. And Oz; she almost died when he left her. It sort of freaked me out that one minute she was all into guys, the next, girls. Make sense out of it.”

“Bisexuality isn’t all that uncommon. In fact, that’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Xander finished off his hamburger and kicked back in his chair, nibbling on the fries. “Look, I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I was coming on to you when I…did what I did. You don’t have to worry about your decision to stay at the house. I’m not some sort of pervert who’s going to molest you in your sleep.”

“A pervert?” Wesley felt his cheeks blaze with heat. “That wasn’t what I meant when I mentioned the fact that bisexuality is fairly common. I wasn’t talking about you or what you did. I was talking about myself.”

Xander frowned. “Come again.”

“I’m sorry if you believe it’s perverted, but I think it’s only fair that I tell you that I’m bisexual. But I’ve never been known to molest people in their sleep.”

Xander gasped. “You!”

“Funny. Most people don’t seem all that surprised when I tell them. In fact, I then usually have to go on to convince them that I’m not gay.”

Xander continued to stare at him as if he’d grown two horns and a tail. “Seriously, I never guessed. I mean you were so into Cordy. No, I never thought that you were gay. You had that polished undercover agent look that girls really went for. Not me, mind you, the girls. But back in school, I was way too busy trying to convince people that *I* wasn’t gay to be worrying about whether or not you were.”

“I’m sorry if you think it’s perverted, and I’ll understand if this makes you uncomfortable around me.”

Xander dipped his head and a bit of color touched his cheeks. “Sorry about that perverted comment. I was just afraid that I would scare you off. Like I said, I had way too many people thinking that I was gay back in high school. And I’m not, you know, gay. I like guys okay. Heck, some of my best friends are guys. But I don’t think about two guys doing…well, whatever it is they do.” He paused and looked down at the remains of his fries. “Okay, so maybe I have thought about it a time or two. Oz said that I was a very complex man, and he was pretty perceptive.”

“Oz was a most unique young man.” Wesley agreed. “He could often see things in others that they could not see in themselves.”

“Funny that you should say that.” Xander continued to stare at his fries, moving them around on the table with his finger. “Because he told me that I was complex after I made that comment about your Pierce Brosnan eyes. Who knows, maybe I *was* checking you out.”

This time it was Wesley’s turn to stare down at the table. This wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. He wanted to clear the air, to ease his conscience and be completely honest with Xander, since he was living under his roof and sleeping in his bed. He hadn’t intended to cause the young man to begin to reexamine his inner motivations or to question his own orientation. 

“Look, Wes. Normally, I wouldn’t say this. I mean, there really hasn’t been anyone that I felt comfortable enough to mention this to. But now I’m thinking that maybe you’d understand. You really don’t think it’s kind of sicko to wonder what it’s like with two guys? Everyone thinks it’s normal to wonder about what it’s like for two girls, but the other, well, it’s just not the same.”

“No, it isn’t.” Wesley finally found his voice. “Society generally views both scenarios in entirely different lights. Two women are considered to be erotic. Two men, as you say, perverted. But, if it’s any consolation for me to say this, it isn’t. It’s perfectly normal to wonder what it’s like. I’d be strongly willing to bet that most people do, whether they’re willing to admit it or not.”

“Well, just so you know, I don’t think you’re twisted or anything and I hope you don’t think that I am for wondering about these things.”

He gave his companion a slight smile. “Trust me, I don’t think you’re twisted for wondering.”

“So, it’s settled, neither of us is twisted.” Xander broke into a smile. “Two perfectly normal, non-twisted, manly men, sharing a bed. Of course, one of us is pregnant, but then, when you’re livin’ on a hellmouth some weirdness is to be expected.”

“Some weirdness,” Wesley agreed softly. This entire evening had turned out to be much stranger than he expected. From the deep kindness Xander had shown him, to the young man’s unexpected revelation that suddenly gave Wesley a bit of insight into the young man’s conflicted thoughts. If Xander had been wondering about such things for years, and didn’t feel comfortable discussing them with his friends, even though one of them was gay, it certainly might explain some of the posturing and humor he used to keep people at a distance. 

“The night’s young!” Xander announced, jumping to his feet with the renewed energy of youth, that a very pregnant Wesley who was ten years older couldn’t help but envy. “It’s time to see if this joint has what we really came for.”

“What was that?”

“An Orange Julius stand.”

With that, Xander darted off into the crowd, leaving a flabbergasted Wesley behind, marveling to himself. “More food?”


	8. 8/11

*~*~*~*~*

“You really don’t have to be here, Xander.” Wesley turned to the young man standing next to him in the waiting room. “Taking a two hour lunch to run clear across town for this, isn’t the brightest idea you’ve had lately.”

“I want to be here. That is, unless you’re uncomfortable having me here. I can understand if you are.”

Wesley thought about it for a minute. Yes, he was uncomfortable, but the need to connect to another human being during this time out-weighed his embarrassment. “No. I’d like for you to stay. If you’re certain that you want to.”

“If I want to? Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss the chance to actually see the little sprout, for anything. With all the kicking he’s been doing lately, and how your belly’s expanded these past two weeks, I just bet he’s huge.”

Wesley grew even more uncomfortable at the mention of his stomach’s obvious expansion. Wyndam-Pryces were traditionally tall and extremely thin, Wesley almost painfully so. He never dreamed he’d possess the equivalent of a beer gut. Even though logically he knew that wasn’t what it was, he still found himself terribly self-conscious about it. He looked away. “We don’t know that he’s a ‘he’.” He countered instead. “We haven’t yet established gender.”

“He’s just a shy little fella. Maybe he’ll cooperate today.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Doctor Kyarsky stepped into the room. He noticed Xander and nodded his approval. “You’ve brought your friend. This is good. He can wait out here until you’re ready.” With that, he ushered Wesley into the examining room and closed the door behind him. 

Wesley donned the paper gown and settled down on the table; clinging to the sheet to preserve what dignity he had left as Kyarsky measured his abdomen, confirming Xander's assessment that he’d expanded in the last two weeks.

“The child is definitely growing. That’s a good sign.” Kyarsky commented as the door behind him crept open and Xander slipped in.

“You sure you don’t mind?” He asked hesitantly.

“It’s all right.” Wesley responded but he continued to cling to the sheet covering his stomach and his long, lean legs that made his girth appear even more ludicrous in his opinion.

Xander slipped to his side and gave his stomach a friendly pat, causing his skin to flush with embarrassment. “You’re not going to be able to hide this thing much longer, Wes. Pretty soon, you’re going to have to tell the gang. I mean, one way or the other, they’ll find out in the next couple of months.”

Wesley knew that what he was saying was true but he just wasn’t ready to face their reactions. Especially Buffy, who’d become increasingly cold since the Dawn episode. He knew it was silly to feel this way. When he decided to have this baby, he logically knew that sooner or later he would have to explain the baby’s presence. But as childish as it was, a part of him was still in denial that all of this was real, and the idea of a pregnant man…well, it simply wasn’t the same as a woman coming forward under similar conditions.

“It’ll be all right.” Xander seemed to be reading his mind as he moved closer to his side. “They’ll understand. We’ve all faced weirder things. If the group can accept me dating an ex-vengeance demon and Buffy bopping two undead guys. A guy having a baby’s nothing.”

Xander’s attempts to ease his discomfort only made matters worse, since he brought to mind Buffy’s relationship with Angel. But Xander had no way of knowing that Wesley would be uncomfortable being reminded of that, and he knew the young man was only trying to help. So he offered him a slight smile. “I’m just not ready yet,” he confessed softly. “But I’ll tell them…soon.”

“We can tell them together if you want. Besides, Giles already knows and I’ll just bet Willow’ll be tickled.” 

Wesley leaned back on the table without commenting as Kyarsky readied the equipment for the sonogram. He knew it was childish to be bothered by the thought of the petite, young blond Slayer and her relationship with Angel. After all, Buffy was his one true love. A fact that Wesley always accepted and learned to live with. She was probably the only woman in the world capable of causing him to lose his soul. Wesley never fooled himself into believing he was anywhere near that category or would ever hold such significance in Angel’s life. Still, he had foolishly hoped to capture a small, insignificant portion of the vampire’s unbeating heart…

He thought of the tiny beating heart just beneath his own and realized --- maybe he had.

“Just relax.” The doctor interrupted his thoughts as he reached down and deprived Wesley of the security of his sheet as he moved it aside, exposing his abdomen that he began to coat with a warm, smooth jell. 

Xander studied the mound with interest. He hadn’t seen Wesley’s exposed stomach since he moved in. The ex-watcher was careful to always keep it covered. The sight captivated him.

Wesley avoided looking directly into the young man’s face and instead concentrated on the diagnostic screen next to the table. 

“Maybe he’ll show us his gender this time.” Kyarsky pushed the transducer against his skin. “And we’ll try to perform an amniocentesis afterwards. That should give us a much better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

“I thought it was impossible to breach the placenta even using something as small as a needle.” Wesley was intrigued with the idea of being able to gather conclusive data concerning the health of his child.

“I believe I have discovered a small spell that will help remedy the situation. It is based on my theory that intent to harm the child may play a major role in whether or not your health is at risk. Whatever source is protecting the child may allow this when we inform it that our intent is not to harm the child, but to help it.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“I’ll stop the test immediately if there is any adverse reaction to either you or the child.”

Wesley nodded. “Just remember that no matter what happens, the child’s health comes first.”

“What?” Xander frowned, suddenly concerned by his tone of voice.

“I mean it.” He told the doctor firmly. “No matter what the risk is to me, you protect my child.”

The doctor nodded. “I’ll respect whatever decision you make. I think you know that you can trust me. I’m your doctor and I’m duty bound to uphold your wishes.”

“I do trust you,” he responded quietly. The little owl-eyed man had been on his side from the very beginning. He knew that he could count on him to carry out his wishes even if his friends tried to intervene. 

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Xander piped up to lighten the mood. “And, hey…look! Is that the little fella?” He pointed toward the screen as the tiny form swam into focus. “He’s beautiful.” The words slipped from his lips in astonishment. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.”

“Did you think he’d have two heads?” Wesley laughed, his own eyes locked on the screen and the precious life he was carrying inside.

“No, but I wasn’t ruling out two horns and a tail.”

Wesley rolled his eyes then returned his attention to the screen.

“He’s definitely a boy.” The doctor announced out of the blue.

A boy! Wesley gasped. He was actually having a son. His heart began to race.

“I told you it was a Wusley Jr.” Xander’s voice weaved into his thoughts. “We’re gonna have a boy!”

“We?” Wesley blinked in surprise and turned to meet Xander’s earsplitting grin. 

The young man shrugged. “The kid’s gonna have a really big family, aunts and uncles all over the place. Don’t kid yourself for a minute that everyone isn’t going to want to be in on this thing once the word gets out. He’s going to be spoiled rotten. Just remember Uncle Xan always comes first.”

Wesley found himself at a loss for words. Xander’s warm enthusiasm and candid affection for the child had been carrying him emotionally for weeks. Even during the dark times when he sat alone in their room, allowing himself the luxury of feeling sorry for himself, Xander was there, egging him on, with humor and eternal optimism. 

“Thank you…Uncle Xan.”

Xander’s smile just got bigger.

“He looks perfectly healthy from what I can tell.” The doctor continued. “And growing properly according to schedule. But I’d like to try to do the amniocentesis if I’m able.”

Wesley nodded, staring again at the wondrous sight of his son on the screen. 

His son. 

The next in a long, revered line of Wyndam-Pryces. A line whose legacy traveled back into antiquity and would now live on into the future…

“The procedure isn’t too difficult, but it can be a little uncomfortable. Your friend may wish to leave, yes?” He glanced in Xander’s direction.

Wesley was seized by the irrational desire to grab the young man’s hand and hold on tight. But he restrained himself and said calmly, “It’s up to you, Xander. You may stay if you wish.”

“Sure. I’m game. Nothing like a little needle in the gut for entertainment.”

“Thanks for the encouragement,” Wesley mumbled as he watched the doctor preparing the equipment from the corner of his eyes. Even under the best of circumstances the idea of having a long, sharp instrument inserted into his belly was not his idea of a fun time. But he’d had his throat slit, for god’s sake, this should be a breeze. Now was not the time to wimp out.

Kyarsky gently prepared the area, cleaning the skin and injecting a local anesthetic. “I will try to make this as comfortable for you as possible. You will experience some stinging and perhaps a little cramping, but there’s no need to be concerned.” 

The tip of the needle touched his skin and he gritted his teeth as the doctor began to chant an incantation they hoped would allow them to perform the procedure by permitting them access to the fetus. 

He closed his eyes and silently beseeched the deity that may have had a hand in all of this to help them. They had only the child’s best interests at heart. They had to breach the placenta both for the test and for the baby to be born. Surely if this child was meant to be, the fates would understand this and allow them to reach the baby.

He felt a cold pressure as the needle broke the skin, but no pain. He opened his eyes and turned to face the monitor, watching the ultrasound as the needle drew closer to the fetus. It jumped and its heart began to beat faster. The tiny, rabbit like flutter of its heart grew faster and faster. He watched it and his own heart began to race, matching its rhythm. The needle reached the aura surrounding the child, pierced….

Wesley screamed.

*~*~*~*~*

Hands were touching him but he couldn’t see. Darkness surrounded him, pulling him down and at first he fought it, struggling to return to the light. All he could think of was fighting to return to the life he’d always known. He remembered lying face down in a cold deserted park, the sickly sweet smell of his own blood burning his nostrils as it poured into the hard, uncaring ground that eagerly devoured it. He fought to live that night, to be with the people he loved…

But suddenly, this was very different.

Warmth slowly reached out and wrapped itself around him and he found himself safe in the embrace of something beyond himself. The warmth of peace that surpassed all understanding. He moved away from the life he knew and toward the welcoming warmth, allowed it to enfold him. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce slowly ceased to be and all that remained was a gentle tranquility he never knew in life. He released himself into the serenity of eternity.

Everything was going to be all right; he was going home.

Suddenly, hands were touching him, pulling him from the calm back into the storm. He fought to stay were he was. Pain waited for him beyond the threshold, pain and loneliness, but here, here he would never know loneliness again…

“Wes!”

Voices cut the stillness and he tried to turn away, fought to find the rest he knew was waiting for him if he stayed. There would be no rejection here. No sorrow. No pain. Wrapped in eternity’s embrace.

“Damn it, Wes!”

Something wrenched him back and he found himself lying on a cold hard table, scantily covered by a simple paper gown. Goose bumps rippled over his skin and he realized he was pouring sweat. 

“Thank God.” 

Again the hands were touching him and he turned to find Xander’s anxious face mere inches from his own. The young man was clinging to him with a desperation that surprised him. “Wha…what happened?”

“I don’t know, but the doc says we almost lost you. One second everything was fine, the next, everything went crazy.”

“The baby!” He sprang to a sitting position, his heart pounding madly in his chest.

“It’s all right.” The doctor was at his side, a hand on his shoulder. “The baby’s fine. I aborted the test the minute things went wrong, just as I told you I would. The baby is okay, but you almost flat lined.”

“Then we failed.” He felt his heart sink. If the powers that created this child refused to allow them access even if it was only to help the baby, how could his son ever hope to be born? “What are we going to do?”

“The test wasn’t essential, but it would have been nice to have the amniotic fluid tested.”

Xander still held tightly to Wesley’s arm even though the crises appeared to be over. “If we can’t get to this baby, how is he going to be born?”

“We don’t know that when the time comes the protective aura won’t dissipate on its own.”

“But if it doesn’t.” Xander squeezed Wesley’s arm in a painful clasp. “We can’t risk Wes’s life. You have to think of something now! This kid is going to be born in less than two months and we can’t risk Wes.”

“The baby comes first.” Wesley responded calmly above the tirade. “That issue is not up for debate.”

“But, Wes--”

“I mean it, Xander.” He turned to face the doctor, staring intently into the man’s eyes covered by the coke bottle glasses that stared back at him not unkindly. “If you have to choose between us, when the time comes, chose my son.”

The doctor gave him a solemn nod.

“Like hell…” Xander began.

“This issue is settled.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

The dagger was incrusted in jewels; it was beautiful and obviously very old. Giles held it carefully in his hands, turning it and studying it closely.

“Do you know anything about it?” Buffy asked. She and Willow had shown up at the museum in the middle of the afternoon, interrupting Giles and Wesley as they were unloading a recent arrival of Eighteenth Century prints. “Look’s like more of those Praeses artifacts only different.”

“You say you found this last night on patrol?”

“Yes. We slayed a couple of vampires in Lincoln Park and one of them was carrying that. He was carving some weird symbols on the pavilion in front of St. Augustine’s.”

“You needn’t feel obligated to patrol, Buffy. Your studies should come first, you know. You didn’t get back till awfully late last night. You need your rest.”

“I’m not in the old slayer’s home yet, Giles.” She rolled her eyes and Willow at her side suppressed a giggle. “Besides, it won’t hurt me to get out every now and again. Keep the old reflexes in shape.” 

“None the less, you mustn’t let your studies fall to the wayside as you’ve done in the past.” He looked back down at the dagger in his hand. “I’m not certain that this is Praeses.”

“It isn’t.” Wesley couldn’t help comment. He’d been eyeing the weapon since Buffy and Willow arrived, but he declined to speak up until now. “I would be much more inclined to say--”

Buffy cleared her throat. 

Wesley trailed to silence.

“We haven’t seen you around for the last couple of weeks. Looks like you and Xander would rather be living it up over at his place than helping the rest of us out.” Buffy commented dryly. 

“Wesley’s been busy with research.” Giles interrupted before Wesley could respond. “On these particular demons, in fact.”

“Well, he’s certainly not been on patrol with the rest of us.” She turned and eyed him coldly. “Get anybody’s sister killed lately?”

“Buffy!” Willow and Giles said in unison.

“Buffy, I…” Wesley was unsure of how to respond without making matters worse. The girl was still deeply resentful of her sister’s desire to slay. “I understand your concerns for Dawn’s safety. But I assure you; she is more than capable of defending herself. She preformed admirably that night.”

“Oh, I have your assurance, do I? Well that just makes everything great, doesn’t it?” She left Willow’s side and slowly advanced on the ex-watcher standing next to the crate they’d been unloading since it arrived from Toronto that morning. “I don’t know how our poor, pitiful group survived before you showed up to give us your assurances concerning our ‘performances.’ Why don’t you enlighten me again as to why you chose to grace us here in Cleveland with your presence in the first place, because I think I missed that little chapter of the story. I guess it was because we were doing so pitifully on our own.”

Wesley took a hesitant step back from the petite girl who stood glaring up at him.

“With the unprecedented activation of so many new Slayers, I needed Wesley’s assistance.” Giles spoke up. “You know that.”

“Yeah, Buffy.” Willow interjected. “You know we need Wesley here. It was good of him to show up. Giles shouldn’t have to do all the book stuff on his own any more. I don’t help nearly as much as I used to and neither do you. You aren’t being fair.”

“I just think we have enough problems around here without Wes bumbling around and getting us killed. I can’t believe you’d rather be here in cold, gray Ohio instead of sunny L.A. where all your friends are. What really happened, Wes? They throw you out? Who did your ‘help’ get killed in L.A.?”

Wesley gasped and for a moment he couldn’t reply. “No one.” He responded softly. “I assure you, with the exception of Cordelia, everyone in L.A. was fine when I left.”

“Oh great, more of your assurances.”

“Buffy, back off.” Willow snapped. “I mean it. I know you’re upset, but you’re not being fair. Dawn was going on patrol long before Wesley showed up. He isn’t to blame here. I know you’re angry and I know you’re looking for someone to take it out on, but he’s not the one. This is between you and Dawn.”

Buffy huffed then turned and glared at her red-haired companion. “Everyone here acts like they don’t know what happened in L.A. You all act like I’m too stupid to know about Angel’s son and that Wesley took him.” She turned her icy stare in Wesley’s direction. “Was that another of your bright ideas? Cause if that’s the way you help people, I’d sure hate to see what you do to people who aren’t your friends.”

Wesley felt the blood rush from his face.

“Buffy that’s a horrible thing to mention.” Willow gasped. “Besides, it’s none of our business. It’s between Wesley and Angel. Things were crazy in L.A. back then, Wesley was only trying to--”

“Help? Yeah, I know.” She turned her sarcasm back to the pale ex-watcher. “Do me a favor, okay. Don’t do me any favors. Will, I’ll be waiting for you in the car.” With that, she stalked from the room leaving a strained hush in her wake.

Wesley stood shaken next to the crate of Ukrainian prints. He had no defense for the girl’s allegations. They were true. He had bumbled things in L.A. as he always did, and it cost his best friend his son. It was no wonder Angel couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him for any length of time. Especially since their regrettable encounter in Cordy’s room. Instinctively, his hand reached down to protectively touch his stomach.

As painful as the memory was, could he truly regret his encounter with Angel if it gave him his own son?

“Wes, look, Buffy didn’t mean that.” 

He looked up and found the concerned redhead standing next to him. 

“She’s been really bummed out lately. We all knew about the L.A. thing, and Buffy knows good and well that Angel forgave you for it. She just brought that up to be snippy. What’s really eating her up is that she feels guilty because she’s not slaying any more. At least not that much. But everyone agrees, she deserves this chance to go to school and have a real life. She’s earned it, but she doesn’t feel that way. Not deep inside where it counts. If it’s any consolation, she’s been saying these snippy things to everyone. Heck, she even ragged on me about the whole end-of-the-world thing I pulled that same year, and she hasn’t mentioned that in ages.”

“She does deserve this chance.” Wesley finally found his voice. “She has earned the right to have her own life. Buffy has saved countless lives and sacrificed more than all of us combined.”

Willow nodded. “Just don’t take her words to heart these days. She’ll get over it. Besides she’s always a little moody after one of Angel’s visits.”

Wesley frowned. “Angel?”

“You know. Since he showed up the other day.”

Wesley’s eyes grew wide. Angel was here? He felt the world turn on its axis and he almost collapsed, but he managed to conceal the fact by turning and clinging to the crate next to him. Angel was here in Ohio, and he didn’t let Wesley know? This was impossible.

“He was only here for the afternoon. I guess that’s why you didn’t know. It’s not like the old days when you could just hop in your car and be in Sunnydale in two hours.”

Angel was here and gone and he hadn’t bothered to waste even a moment of time to see Wesley. It shouldn’t have shocked him but it did. It hit him like a blow to the gut. The baby chose that moment to kick and he gave a start, pressing his hand to his side. Willow was staring at him and the walls started closing in.

“When he came to Sunnydale to help with the First, I know they were discussing the possibility of getting back together someday.” She continued. “But I don’t know why he came up...”

“Please…. excuse me.” He pushed past her and out of the room, leaving a confused Willow behind.

Wesley just kept moving until he found himself in the small courtyard behind the museum next to the picnic tables under the oak. He sank down to the hard bench, his world collapsing around him.

Angel had been here recently. 

He refused to think. Couldn’t think. He drew deep soothing breaths into his lungs and slowly released them, trying to push all thoughts from his mind. 

He sat for a moment and listened to the distant sound of passing traffic and the occasional twitter of the birds high up in the gnarled oak whose leaves were beginning to tint with the promise of autumn. This was not L.A. The seasons came and went just like back home.

Home.

He hadn’t thought of England in ages. Autumn’s crisp chills and snow white Christmases. Then it suddenly occurred to him, his son would be born by Christmas. The baby would see snow. A smile ghosted over his lips and he pressed his hand to the life growing beneath his heart. He was surprised to realize that he missed the changing seasons of home. Here, the winds blowing over the Great Lakes lent the air a familiar chill that reminded him of home. His son would know what it was like to play in a mound of leaves and pack the snow in his tiny hands…build a snowman…

Angel didn’t want to see him.

It cut his soul like a knife, sharper than the one Justine used to slice his throat. 

The baby moved, stirring gently as if he were sleeping. Did infants dream in the womb?

A hint of breeze rustled the leaves overhead, sending a few fluttering to the ground near his feet. The baby stirred again and he gently massaged his son. “What are you dreaming of?” he whispered.

Angel didn’t want to see him.

He came all this distance to see Buffy. Of course he did. It was always about Buffy and always would be. He was neither petite nor blonde nor a champion. He was Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, failed son, failed Watcher, failed Demon Hunter, failed head of Angel Investigations…. failed friend. Angel and Buffy were two souls intertwined. They belonged together. He’d known this all along. So why did his heart feel hollow and empty in his chest? 

He was more alone than he ever dreamed possible. 

The baby moved again, a gentle ripple of sensation passing through him. He touched the spot and smiled. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce may have failed in every other way, but he was going to have a son.

Maybe he was not so alone after all.


	9. 9/11

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Wes, we’re not supposed to be here or at least you’re not supposed to be here.” 

Wesley ignored the young man trailing behind him as he moved swiftly through the park. 

“We agreed you weren’t going on patrol again until after the baby was born.” Xander argued, struggling to keep up.

“I’m not on patrol. In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have any Slayers with us and we aren’t hunting vampires. It’s not even sunset yet.”

“It will be in about thirty minutes. We really shouldn’t be taking this risk.”

Wesley pulled up short and turned to face his companion, surprised to find him huffing and almost out of breath. Even though he was the one over seven months pregnant, his long legs and stamina far outpaced Xander’s. It was kind of funny when he thought about it. The years of hard training at Angel Investigations and the year on his own had obviously paid off. “I agreed not to put others at risk. You chose to tag along, I didn’t invite you.”

“Like I’m about to let you drag out here on your own.”

“It’s a park, Xander, not Lakeside Cemetery, and I’ll be done in just a few minutes.”

“The park where Buffy and Willow just happened to kill a couple of vampires last night.”

Wesley rolled his eyes in frustration and started off again. “I just want to get a look at that pavilion.”

“I’m sure it’s a nice looking gazebo, but couldn’t you check it out during the day?”

“I’m not interested in it for its esthetic qualities. Buffy mentioned that the vampire she slayed last night was carving strange symbols into it. I just wanted to get a chance to take a look at them.” They topped the hill facing St. Augustine’s Church and saw the large wooden pavilion in the distance. Wesley darted off down the hill.

“Great,” Xander huffed. “Some dusted vamp was carving his undead girlfriend’s initials into a gazebo and we’ve got to go check it out. I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’ll be glad when you’re back in the field again. All this bookworm stuff is making you stir crazy.” He hurried off to follow him.

Wesley was down on his hands and knees, his nose pressed inches from the wood. 

“You know, Wes, there’s plenty of things I’d rather be doing than scopeing out graffiti in Lincoln Park.”

Wesley huffed but said nothing. His eyes carefully scanned the wood, methodically moving over the large structure. Unfortunately, there was a great deal of various graffiti and occasional gang symbols that he had to filter through in his search for anything significant. Xander might have been correct in his assessment that some lovelorn vampire was carving his girlfriend’s name into the pavilion. 

“You know there’s actually a pub around here off West 14th, Lincoln Park Pub. Don’t you people like that sort of thing?”

“We people?” Wesley momentarily raised his head and met his companion’s gaze. Xander finally agreed to leave his patch at home so Wesley was staring into two deep brown eyes. For a moment, it was easy to forget the young man had ever been injured. 

“Yeah, you know, English people. I thought you liked pubs. Just think, if we weren’t here rooting around on this thing, we could be kicked back at the bar drinking Guinness and playing darts.”

“Drinking Guinness?” He repeated with a bemused expression on his face. His eyes fell to the mound of his stomach beneath his shirt. “While it may appear that I’ve been over indulging in that sort of thing as of late, I don’t suppose you’ve considered the fact that I’m hardly in a position to consume alcohol.”

“Oops.” Xander winched. “Sorry ‘bout that. Shame on me for wettin’ your appetite like that. But after the baby’s born, we’re gonna check out that pub. I promise.”

Wesley nodded. “We’ll do that.”

“It’s a date, then!” He smiled, and then slowly his cheeks reddened when he realized how that sounded. “Well, not a ‘date’ date, just, you know, two guys out on the town doing manly things.”

“I understand what you meant, Xander.” He laughed and returned to his examination of the surface of the wood. Finally his eyes located what he was searching for, a portion where it was apparent the cuts in the boards were recent. The symbols were intriguing and definitely not random graffiti, nor were they Praeses in origin. He frowned in concentration. They seemed familiar but he couldn’t quite place them. 

“You think, maybe, you could get a move on there, Wes.” Xander prompted. “Sun’s going down and I’d much rather be heading home to dinner than being someone’s dinner.”

“Ramanshe!” He exclaimed when it finally came to him.

Xander frowned. “Is that sort of like eureka?”

“In a sense, since I’ve definitely found it.” He pressed his nose closer to the carvings, memorizing them. “I recognize this writing. They’re the symbols for the demon Ramanshe. He was an ancient demon who had quite a few followers back in the twelfth century. He was thought to have been destroyed, but he reemerged in the eighteenth century. He was thought to have been destroyed then too, but who knows, he may have survived. I’ve learned the hard way, that one should never write off any demon simply because the books say he’s been killed. They have an annoying habit of popping back up when one least expects.”

“Kind of like the cat with nine lives. We could call this dude the cat demon.”

“These vampires Buffy killed may have been followers of his. It doesn’t mean he’s alive, just that he has followers in the city. It could also explain some of the Praeses paraphernalia we’ve been finding around town. Praeses demons were fairly populace during the same time period and many of their symbols are similar. If these vampires are simply followers of their old religious practices, it would explain why we haven’t seen any demons, just mismatched trinkets.” 

“Why would vampires want to follow any religion, much less that of an old dead demon guy? If I were undead I’d be out, you know, doing undead things, biting people and such.”

“My years of dealing with vampires have taught me that they are far more complex than we originally thought. Most of my Watcher training led me to believe that for the most part they were mindless creatures not so very different from wild beasts. But I’ve learned they sometimes develop complex, structured family units that aren’t unlike the ones they had in life. Especially the older vampires. If they live beyond the fledgling stage, which I’d say comprises the majority of vampires we deal with and Slay, they can go on to mature into quite complex creatures.”

“You spent way too many years with Angel, if you ask me. Vampires aren’t complex at all. They eat. They kill. They eat…”

“I’ll grant that Angel is an exception, and I wasn’t including him in my comments. But are you saying that it’s your assessment that you didn’t find Spike to be capable of intricacies you weren’t expecting when you first met him?”

Xander considered his comments for a moment then nodded. “Spike did surprise me, even before the soul thing. I think he really did have feelings for Buffy, in that twisted way of his. At least he seemed more sincere than Angel.”

Angel was the last person Wesley wanted to discuss, or to be reminded of his relationship with the Slayer, so he changed the subject. “We’ll have to ring Giles and tell him about these symbols. I don’t think a group of Ramanshe worshipers are any more of a threat than Praeses demons, but he needs to know what we’re dealing with.” He slipped out of the pavilion and knelled down to squint through the lattice covering the base, into the murky darkness underneath.” 

“Come on, Wes, you got what we came for. Let’s go.” 

Something shifted in the shadows catching his attention, and suddenly intrigued, he scrounged around the base until he found a loose piece of lattice and began to pry it free.

“Wes, I don’t think that’s such a hot idea. It’s getting late and there could be spiders under there. I was working on the foundation of a house over in Saint John’s Village and got into a crawl space and it was infested with the biggest, nastiest bunch of spiders I’ve ever seen.”

“Spiders don’t bother me all that much.” On all fours, he peered into the opening he’d pried into the lattice. Spiders might not have bothered him, but darkness, on the other hand, gave him the creeps. Too many hours spent in the cupboard under the stairs, left him with little tolerance for closed in spaces lacking light. But he declined to tell his friend this as he crawled through the hole into the shadows. Something moved again, about the size of a large dog, and he cursed his lack of a torch as he squinted to see what it was.

“If something eats you, I swear, I’m going to kill you.” 

Xander’s voice drifted down to him from outside and he refrained from commenting on the absurdity of the statement. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a stake, preparing for the worst. Cleveland, it seemed, was becoming more and more infested with demonic activity everyday. So there was no telling what he was stalking. Common sense whispered that it would probably be best to leave it alone, but the Watcher in him just wouldn’t let this mystery go.

“See anything, yet?” Xander shouted. “Anything big, hairy and scary?”

“Whatever it is, it isn’t all that large.” He shouted back, crawling on all fours farther under the pavilion. 

“Well, hurry up and kill it and let’s go!”

The moment Xander said the words, something screeched and lunged from the shadows toward Wesley’s face. He caught a good look at the scaly, blue form and recognized it as a demon before it suddenly released a disgusting spew of foam, hitting him directly in the face. He gasped and covered his eyes, minutes too late as the substance struck him, covering his face and stinging his eyes. The demon darted out into the evening and was gone.

Wesley gasped and tried to clean his eyes of the substance coating him. He couldn’t see. The demon was gone but the darkness was suddenly oppressive as he continued to scrub at his eyes, wishing he’d been wearing his glasses. Over the years, he’d grown accustomed to having that extra layer of protection in front of his eyes. He struggled to see but couldn’t, and he stumbled backwards trying to find his way out. Logically, he knew the pavilion wasn’t all that large and it shouldn’t be too difficult to scramble back out the way he’d come in, but he just couldn’t see to do it.

The demon was long gone. He’d identified it as a Helaman. A relatively harmless creature that spooked easily. Still, his inability to see was making him increasingly uncomfortable as he struggled to back out from under the gazebo, and every little sound was making his skin crawl. His mind was beginning to imagine all manner of threats lurking in wait to pounce…

“Hey, Wesley, you all right?”

The sound of Xander’s voice drifting down to him was a lifeline and he fumbled toward the direction from which it came, his vision still obscured. He felt like an idiot. It was a gazebo, for god’s sake, a large one true, but nothing so expansive that he should be lost forever. Still, stumbling around in the darkness, looking for a way out was eerily reminiscent of being locked in the darkness as a child; the feelings of desperation and abandonment were beginning to return.

It was just a pavilion. There were no bogymen hiding underneath it waiting to gobble him whole, like the monsters he envisioned living under his bed when he was three. In fact, ‘he’ was the bogyman in this situation, having terrified a relatively benign demon. So why was his heart starting to race? He blinked his eyes, trying desperately to clear them as he stumbled backward.

“Wes, you’re scaring me.” Xander shouted. “Get the hell outta there. It’s getting dark out here.”

“I’m trying, damn it!”

“Well, why the fuck didn’t you say something?”

He tried to still the racing of his heart. It should be simple to get out – but it wasn’t! He just couldn’t see, and though logically he knew that if he just bolted straight ahead he would eventually collide with the lattice and be able to break his way out, he couldn’t make himself plunge into the darkness without benefit of his vision. It was ridiculous. He was a trained demon hunter and an experienced vampire killer. But he remembered the suffocating shadows that terrified him as a child and he suddenly found he couldn’t breathe. 

Why did his father leave him there under the stairs? How could any parent do such a thing? He thought of his own son, resting safe and secure within him, and he couldn’t imagine anyone being capable of inflicting such emotional scars upon their child. A person didn’t have to be a demon to terrify his family. 

His son would never know such horror. 

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, almost like that night in another, lonely park where he lay dying, his life’s blood bleeding into the ground….

Someone grabbed his arm and he released an embarrassing squeal of surprise. “This way,” a reassuring voice whispered next to his ear, and he found himself lead out from the stagnant air that smelled of rotting leaves and wood into the sweet evening air that filled his lungs. He breathed in deeply, fighting to catch his breath. He still couldn’t see and he found that he was clinging to Xander’s arm as they knelled on the ground. He tried to make himself let go, but he couldn’t. “Promise me….promise me, he’ll never be left in the dark…”

“What?” Xander asked in confusion.

“Promise me, Xander.” He squeezed his companion’s arm almost to the point of pain. “Swear to me that no matter what happens, you’ll see to it that he’s never left alone in the dark!”

“Okay…alright,” Xander stammered in obvious bewilderment. “Whatever you say.”

“Swear it!”

“Fine, I swear! He’ll never be left alone in the dark.”

Wesley’s vision slowly began to clear enough for him to make out the deep purple shadows of early evening, but everything was still blurred. His nerves slowly began to calm and he finally managed to catch his breath. 

“Wes?” 

Xander’s voice came softly to his ears and he turned in the young man’s direction, struggling to see his features through a fuzzy haze.

“What were you talking about?”

Wesley drew a shuddered breath, feeling like an utter fool. He settled back on the ground and rested his arms on his up drawn legs.

“Who…what was left in the dark?” 

“Me.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “When I was….pretty young. Under the stairs.”

“What? What were you doin’ under the stairs? You’re way too curious for your own good, Wes. I bet you were just as bad as a kid. What’d you do, crawl under there snooping around and get your scrawny butt stuck? I bet you drove your folks crazy, didn’t you?”

He squeezed his blurred eyes shut and slowly shook his head. “My father felt it was a proper form of discipline for, as you say, a curious lad who drove his folks crazy.”

Xander gasped, and for a moment, he didn’t respond, when he did, his voice was thick with an emotion that Wesley couldn’t identify. “What kind of sicko stuffs his kid under the stairs? And I thought my old man was a bastard. God, Wes, your folks were real weirdos. For what it’s worth, I swear the little sprout will never be left alone in the dark.”

“It’s worth a great deal, Xander.” He responded softly, staring off into the distance and trying to regain his vision as his nerves finally calmed. This really wasn’t a conversation that he wanted to be having, but he appreciated knowing that his unborn son had at least one person in this world who had his best interest at heart. 

“You’re covered in goo.” Xander stated the obvious, sensing that Wesley would prefer a change of topic. “It smells like crap. We need to get you to a hospital. That stuff could be toxic.”

“I’m all right.” He blinked his eyes, trying to unglue his contacts that were only making matters worse by sticking to his eyes. 

“You don’t know that. This stuff could be deadly or you might go blind. That demon attacked you, didn’t it?”

“I assure you, I’m fine. It isn’t toxic and I’m not going blind. Helaman demons aren’t dangerous…”

“Aren’t dangerous! That thing attacked you. It could have killed you.”

“They’re relatively benign creatures. I merely frightened it; it wasn’t trying to kill me.”

“Wasn’t trying to kill you, my ass. It spewed you with its disgusting, poisonous goop.”

“Disgusting yes. Poisonous no.” Wesley slowly began to see the humor in the situation and he started to chuckle. 

“What’s so funny about being attacked by a demon?” Xander sounded annoyed.

“I told you I wasn’t attacked. Helaman demons are more afraid of us than we are of them.” Wesley started laughing harder, relieved to be out in the cool, fresh air as he explained. “It didn’t spew me with poison. It’s a defense mechanism. I scared the poor thing so badly, it threw up on me.” 

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Buggering hell!” Wesley winced as he slammed his shin into the bathroom counter again. He just couldn’t get his bearings. He barely stumbled though his shower, scrubbing off the disgusting goo, his vision still blurred. Then he fumbled his way out into the steam filled room, wrapped a towel around his ever-expanding waist and promptly slammed into the counter. Now he’d done it again and it hurt like hell.

He knew his vision would eventually clear but it was still frustrating. The contents of the demon’s stomach were a conglomeration of rotting leaves and digestive acids; Helamans were herbivores, but the substance melded with his contacts making the situation worse when he had to pry them out. His eyes were red and stinging. He set his contacts aside to soak, but he wouldn’t be able to put them back in tonight so he wouldn’t be able to do any work. 

He hated letting an evening go by without at least doing something to help the group. A night without reading was like a night without oxygen. He could think of very few times in his life when an evening passed without him at least reading something. Maybe once or twice during the weeks following Justine’s attack, when he stared absently at the walls of his flat, but even those days didn’t last long before he was at least reading a little, if only the labels on liquor bottles. But tonight, even though he could make out shapes, colors and such, there was no way his eyes were going to clear up enough for him to be of any use to anyone.

He grabbed a second towel and began to dry his head, assuring himself that all the disgusting goop was out of his hair and off his skin. He’d scrubbed himself raw in the shower to get it all off and still he imagined he could feel it beneath his fingers as he massaged his scalp. The ghastly substance seemed to soak into his very pores, but he’d finally gotten it all, even if he was a little waterlogged as a result. He turned and peered into the steam-covered glass of the bathroom mirror, but could barely make out his own refection. That wasn’t such a bad thing, he reasoned, considering the fact that he didn’t care too much for his own appearance these days. His stomach bulged from beneath the white, fluffy towel that barely covered the tops of his long lean legs giving him the appearance of a chicken, or so he felt. It was a constant reminder that his life was never going to be the same.

He lamented the fact that everyone was gone on patrol but him. He felt useless and fat, and though he knew that it was silly to feel that way, he wasn’t really fat at all, it was such a drastic change from the thin lanky form he’d possessed all his life, that he felt like an intruder in his own body. And useless, utterly useless. The brave demon hunter had bumbled yet again, terrorizing an innocent Helaman into almost having a heart attack. Poor thing. 

“Pull yourself together, boy,” he mumbled beneath his breath. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

He blinked his blurry eyes and turned away from the mirror, then taking a step back, his foot found a puddle of water on the tile and slipped out from under him, sending him stumbling. His arm flung outward, knocking an assortment of bottles off the counter that went crashing to the floor as he yelped and slipped onto his backside amidst the clutter. 

“Damnit to hell!” He knew he wasn’t hurt but it was the infuriating end to a lousy day. He sat sprawled on the floor surrounded by bottles and jars, his stomach looking like a basketball concealed beneath a towel. If he continued growing at his current rate, within weeks he’d probably be waddling with all the dignity of a duck. As it was, even now, it was going to be a challenge to get back up from the slippery tile without slipping again and doing real harm to himself or the baby. He was such an idiot for not assuring that he’d thoroughly dried the floor when he got out of the shower, but with his eyes the way they were, he hadn’t noticed. 

Could life get any worse?

“Wes, are you all right in there?”

Before he could respond, the door pushed open and Xander ambled in. He thought he was alone in the house. Though his vision wasn’t clear, he could still discern the change of expression on the young man’s face from concern to bemusement as he studied the man plopped on his backside on the floor, looking more aggravated than hurt. 

“Well, if you aren’t a sight.”

Wesley cut him a scathing glare.

“Just think, it could always be a lot worse. Most women are huge at your stage and not nearly as tall as you are to be able to carry it off.”

Wesley continued to glare. He felt vulnerable enough without being gawked at. “Xander, do you think I could have a bit of privacy here?” He struggled to rise when he suddenly felt a helpful pair of hands pulling him to his feet.

Xander made sure he was firmly standing before he backed away.

“Thank you,” Wesley said tersely. “Now you may feel free to leave.”

“What climbed up your ass and died?”

“It isn’t funny,” he huffed and turned away. “You try struggling though life like this.” He threw out his hands, indicating his growing girth beneath the scant towel. “Now, would you please get out.”

Xander didn’t move to leave but continued staring at him in the doorway. “It’s not so bad. A little different, sure, but when you grow up on a hellmouth, different is a matter of course.”

“I thought you were on patrol.” He stated flatly, refusing to turn and meet his gaze. He wished the young man would simply go away. He didn’t like standing nearly naked in a bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and being stared at. He could feel his skin redden.

“Yeah…well, I thought I’d take the night off.” He responded vaguely.

“You’ve done that several times this week. That’s a bit unusual for you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it is.”

Something in the young man’s tone made Wesley turn and face him. Xander wasn’t looking at him at all but was instead staring at a spot on the floor. “Xan, is something bothering you?”

He shrugged then slowly raised his eyes to meet Wesley’s. He wasn’t wearing his eye patch and with the prosthesis it was difficult to tell he had ever been injured. “Can I tell you something that I haven’t been able to tell anyone in months. Something that you have to swear not to repeat?”

Worried by the young man’s expression, he nodded and had a seat on the closed toilet lid. “You have my word.”

He hesitated then plunged in as if diving into cold water for the first time. “I’m scared. It isn’t like before, you know, before when nothing bad ever really happened. I mean sure, bad things happened. Hell, Buffy died twice, but still nothing like this ever happened to me before.” He motioned toward his eye. “I know it’s a sissy thing to admit. I shouldn’t be afraid to get back out there and do my part, and usually I’m not. But sometimes…sometimes I just can’t do it.”

“That’s a perfectly normal response, Xander.” He responded softly. Amazed that the young man had been performing as well as he had for so long without breaking under the physical and emotional strain of his injury. Most people would have quit fighting all together, but not Xander, he just kept wisecracking and slaying along with the best of them. Better, in fact, than most. “Anyone in their right mind would be crazy not to feel the way you do. I shut down completely after my last injury.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Wes.” He continued in a desperate tone. “The others can never know that I feel this way.”

“But they’re your friends. They’ll understand.”

“You promised. I trust you to keep your word about this. I just needed to tell someone…someone that I trust.”

“I’m honored.” He responded softly and he meant it. Two short months ago he would have never dreamed that he would be the one the flippant young man would have trusted to reveal his vulnerabilities to. He was touched to know that Xander felt that way. “It’ll get easier with time. But it’s good that you said something. Holding feelings like that inside is never healthy. Just remember that when you feel like patrolling it’s fine to patrol, but when you don’t, that’s fine too.”

He nodded and stared down at the floor. “I had to tell someone. It’s been eating me up for months. Really, pretty much since it first happened. I just don’t feel like I have anything left to give. I mean, I came so close to losing even more than I did. It just scares me to think how easy it would be to lose everything. I’ve thought about dying before, I kinda came to grips with that years ago, but I never really considered the possibility of being permanently injured or….” He trailed and moved over to the tub across from Wesley and sat on the edge. “…Or blind. I just don’t think I’m strong enough to deal with something like that. Dealing with this is hard enough.”

“I’ve accepted the possibility of death, as well.” He recalled the comforting presence he felt as he lay near death on the examining table in Doctor Kyarsky’s office, and how a part of him didn’t want to return to this world but wanted to stay there where he was safe. “In our line of work, death is a constant companion just waiting to take one at any time. But the other, being injured and never quite being oneself ever again, that’s a very different thing. I felt that way when I was shot. I spent quite a few weeks in a wheelchair and it was a very humbling experience. I thought about it a lot; if that bullet had hit my spine I would have been in that chair for the rest of my life. I know it isn’t the same as what you’re going through. I wouldn’t presume to know what it’s like for you. But I do know this, Alexander Harris, you’re strong and you’re going to make it through this.” 

“Thank you.” He smiled softly. “I know I kid around a lot, but sometimes it’s nice just to have someone to talk to. So much craziness has happened these last few years. Crazy even for us. It’s nice to have someone around who understands.”

Wesley returned his smile with a slight one of his own. Then glancing down at his state of undress, he felt a sudden awkwardness. “I am beginning to feel a bit of a draft. So if you don’t mind.” He glanced toward the door.

“I don’t mind at all.” Xander grinned and dropped his eyes to the towel wrapped around Wesley’s waist that barely concealed his lap. “Not at all.”

Wesley blinked in surprise then responded dryly. “Very funny. Now, if you’d let me get dressed, I’d appreciate it. I’m not in the habit of sitting around the house half naked.”

“Maybe you should be. You don’t look half bad.”

“Xander, you’re not amusing. Now, if you’d let me…” He trailed when Xander abruptly stood and leaned over him, placing a hand on either side of him, palms pressed to the wall. “Xander…?” 

The young man kissed him.

Wesley gasped in surprise and almost slipped off his seat into the floor. He caught his breath and pushed his friend away. “Wha….what the hell…?”

Xander leaned close again and this time Wesley did spring to his feet, stepping back and putting distance between them. Xander frowned in confusion. “Wes?”

“What the hell was that all about?”

Xander looked as if he’d been struck. “I…I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

Wesley’s heart was beating a mile a minute. “Knew what?”

“That I’m attracted to you. I have been for weeks. Heck, for all I know, since Sunnydale.”

Wesley finally caught his breath as he found himself clinging to the scant towel barely concealing him. It seemed an eternity since anyone had touched him or even wanted to touch him in anything resembling an intimate way. It almost overloaded his senses and it took him a moment to calm himself enough to respond. “Xander, you don’t know what you feel or what you want. You think you do but you don’t. We’ve had this discussion, and you’re way too confused about this sort of thing…”

“I was confused, but I’m not any more. Okay, maybe a little about, you know, the intricacies of this kinda thing, but I know for a fact that I’m attracted to you. I’m pretty sure that I was in Sunnydale too, but I was really screwed up back then. Larry kept saying things to me, maybe he knew, but I was just confused about it all. But I’m not any more.”

Wesley took a hesitant step back. This was all too much and way too sudden. He was on emotional thin ice himself these days, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt or damage this vulnerable young man who’d befriended him. “Xander, we discussed this several weeks ago, and you were very confused about how you felt. I find it hard to believe that you’ve come to grips with it this quickly.”

“In our world, reality can change on a dime. One minute, your best friend is straight, the next, she’s gay. One minute, your girl friend’s in a wedding gown and you’re planning your future, the next; you’re leaving her at the altar. It doesn’t have to make sense; I just know how I feel.”

Wesley swallowed hard and tried to think of something to say. The embarrassingly small towel around his waist seemed smaller by the minute. “I believe that you really need to take your time and think about what you’re saying. You’ve been though a great deal this last year. A lot that you haven’t yet come to grips with. Now is not the time to make rash decisions.”

“I’m not making a rash decision, Wes.” He bridged the distance between them and boldly reached out, shocking his companion by pressing his hand against his barely concealed cock covered only by the thin cloth.

Wes gasped and stumbled back. The sheer audacity of the act almost made him come unglued. The young man’s touch shot right through him and his blood rushed straight from his brain into his dick. He couldn’t catch his breath. If he thought the towel was small before, it was almost nonexistent now. 

Xander moved closer…

Wesley held him back with a hand to his chest. “We can’t do this.” 

Xander frowned. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I guess I just took it for granted that you were attracted to me, too.”

“I am,” he hurried on to explain, still struggling to control his body’s reaction to Xander’s touch. He’d been alone for so painfully long that it was all he could do to restrain himself from grabbing the boy and bending him over the tub that instant. “But you’re not ready for something like this.”

“I know you’re still thinking I’m that kid back in Sunnydale all those years ago, but, trust me, I’m not. I’m an adult and I know what I want. After all those years with Anya, I’m ready for just about anything.”

“Ready for what?” Wesley responded simply, deciding to drive his point home before this thing got way out of hand and they both got hurt.

Xander looked confused. 

“Just what is it that you’re ready for?” He continued to push. “You said yourself that the ‘intricacies’ of this sort of thing make you uneasy. So what is it that you’re proposing? Because I’m going to be honest with you, I’m in no mood or condition to be topped.”

The young man’s face flushed red, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then he replied softly. “I hadn’t really thought…I mean, I hadn’t really thought through all the details, but then I sort of figured you’d know what to do.”

“You haven’t a clue, do you?” He said bluntly.

“I do! I’m not an idiot, Wes.” He responded in frustration. “Sex. You’re talking about sex…the way two guys go at it. If that’s what you want, I can do that.”

He looked at the young man who stood regarding him with an earnest expression and he knew he wasn’t being fair. There were plenty of ways they could be together, but he was tired and frustrated and trying to make a point. He didn’t want to hurt the boy, either emotionally or physically, but he didn’t want to get hurt either. This wasn’t something to be entered into lightly. “It would hurt you, Xan. Don’t you realize that?” His expression softened and he continued gently. “Look. I appreciate the offer and I know you think this is what you want, but it’s too big of a decision to jump into. Please, just let me get dressed. It’s cold in here, and--”

“I’ve done it before.” He blurted out.

Wesley stalled in surprise. 

“Not exactly ‘done it’, done it, but I’ve done it.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Wesley was intrigued in spite of himself. “What do you mean you’ve done it, but you haven’t?”

“I have. Just not with a guy. Like I said, Anya and I have done just about everything. You know, she used a dildo. And, yeah, it hurt a little at first, but that’s how I know that I like it.”

Wesley was fascinated by this turn of events. This was the last thing he expected to hear. He tried to stop his thoughts from traveling to the mental pictures the young man’s confession invoked, but he couldn’t. His body wanted to react, had been dying to react for so very long. It was all he could do to control himself. The towel around his waist was painfully small and he knew he was a ghastly sight standing half naked in the bathroom with his basketball stomach concealed by nothing but that towel. All he needed to add to the picture was a raging hard on. “Xander, I’m over seven months pregnant. You can’t seriously want to have sex with me.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t thinking. You don’t think it would hurt the little sprout, do you?”

Wesley almost laughed out loud. “That wasn’t what I meant. No, it wouldn’t hurt the baby. I meant that you couldn’t possibly want to be with this.” He held out his hands, indicating his pathetic appearance. 

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s you, Wes, and there’s nothing wrong with the way you look. I think your mind’s blowing it all out of proportion. You’re just not that big, and even if you were, I wouldn’t mind. It’s you I care about and you I want to be with. The baby’s a beautiful thing, I accepted it weeks ago, why would I feel differently now?” He slipped closer to Wesley and rested his hand on the mound of his stomach, rubbing gently.

Wesley pulled in his breath. Strangely enough, that single act felt more erotic than anything he could have done and Wesley suddenly wanted him even more. He wanted sex. He’d wanted it for months, to the point where it was almost driving him insane. But now that it was being offered to him, there were so many conflicting issues screaming in his head. He didn’t want to hurt his friend, not physically or emotionally. And certainly not the way Angel had hurt him. He couldn’t bear the thought of doing that to another human being. But there was just no guarantee what he’d feel tomorrow. He was carrying Angel’s child. He was certain of that now. And despite everything that had happened, he now realized that he loved that stupid vampire…

But god he wanted sex.

He wanted it so badly he could taste it. 

He wanted to fuck.

The hand rubbing his stomach was driving him to distraction and his body was definitely starting to react and there would soon be no hiding it beneath the towel. “Xander,” he said huskily. “We’ll discuss this…in the bedroom.”


	10. 10/11

*~*~*~*~*

 

By the time he dropped the towel and slipped into his Dockers they were a painful fit. He sent the young man on ahead and quickly dressed. He reached for his shirt and put it on to cover his monstrosity of a stomach as he drew deep soothing breaths into his lungs. He had to restrain himself. 

He wanted Xander, of that there was no question. He wanted nothing more than to stalk out of this bathroom down the hall into their bedroom, and bury himself deep inside the willing youth. But he had to restrain himself. This wasn’t something to be entered into lightly, at least not as far as he was concerned. Granted, Xander may have had some level of experience, and it was true that he was not as young and naive as Wesley’s brain was telling his cock he was, but he refused to risk hurting him. There were many factors to be considered and things that Xander didn’t know. Important things. They needed to talk not to shag.

In his mind it became a mantra until his body slowly began to get the message and the fit of his Dockers began to relax. 

They needed to talk not to shag.

He drew a deep breath and headed down the hall to their room.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Dear god he was naked. 

Wesley felt like a dirty old man as he clung to the doorknob, his legs turning to rubber as he gawked at the beautiful young man stretched out on the bed, stark raving naked. On his side, his body slightly curved in a gentle sway, the rounded buttocks facing his direction. Positioned as he was, his body curved away from the opened doorway, slightly propped up on one elbow to face the man in the entryway, an almost impish grin on his face, Wesley couldn’t see the young man’s cock, but he knew it would be just as breathtaking at the rest of him and he felt an echoing throb from his own. The Dockers were again getting uncomfortable.

Xander was definitely not playing fair.

He swallowed hard and closed the door, then turned and crossed over to the bed, knelling on the edge next to where Xander lay watching him. “We have to talk. There’s something…”

The youth leaned near and captured his mouth. Wesley’s head began to spin and he thought to pull away but didn’t, when those lips claimed his with a level of expertise he never expected. He gasped and Xander’s tongue took advantage, quickly slipping past his lips into the depths of his mouth. The kiss grew deep and impassioned as his own tongue instinctively rose to meet it, tasting its texture and the hint of a coke Xander obviously drank earlier in the evening. The Dockers were suddenly killing him. Wesley pushed away and looked down into Xander’s face mere inches from his own, his lips already swollen from the intensity of that single kiss. He wanted to take those lips again, take everything the young man’s expression said he was freely offering. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

He cleared his throat. “Xander, we have to talk.”

Xander grinned and slipped his hand to the bulge in Wesley’s trousers. 

He almost jumped out of his skin and shifted away from the touch. “Now stop that,” he admonished as if talking to an impetuous child.

Those sensuous lips turned down in a pout that surprised Wesley both with its audacity and the effect it instantly had on his cock. He wanted this young man, god how he wanted him, and he allowed himself the impulsive indulgence of taking his hand and reaching for the rounded globe of his rear still facing him. He ran his hand over the firm white skin and squeezed. Xander moaned, and he squeezed again more roughly this time then pulled away.

“Xander, there’s something I have to tell you, something that could very well change everything. It could alter the way you feel about me. But I can’t consider going one step further into this…this encounter without telling you.”

Instantly concerned by the tone of his voice, Xander’s face turned serious. “Wes, I’m not asking for some sort of a commitment from you, here. So let’s not get all serious about this. It’s not like I’m a virgin on her wedding night or something.”

“Actually, you are…a virgin, I mean. As far as this is concerned. But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s about the baby.”

“Is something wrong with the baby?” Concern immediately shadowed his face.

Wesley shook his head. There was no gentle way to put this, so he blurted it out. “It’s Angel’s.”

For a moment, Xander’s expression was blank as if the words didn’t quite register, then slowly his eyes widened and his body stiffened as he pulled back with a look of total disbelief on his face. “*What!*”

“At first I didn’t know, didn’t want to know. But I’m certain of it now. This baby I’m carrying is Angel’s. I know how you feel about him, Xander, but you don’t really know him as I do. He isn’t the person you believe him to be…”

“*What the fuck?*” 

Wesley trailed to a halt.

“You…and Angel? Deadboy and You?” He tried to wrap his mind around the concept, emotions warring in the changing expressions of his face. “The two of you…you…”

“Had sex.” He responded softly, surprised by the level of calm he heard in his own voice. “Angel and I had sex and now I’m having his son. Don’t ask me how this happened, because I haven’t a clue. I just know that it did.” From the expression on the young man’s face it was obvious to Wesley that he’d made the right decision to tell him the truth before he committed himself to a night with Wesley that he would only regret when the morning came. Just as Angel had regretted their night together. It wouldn’t have been fair to Xander, knowing the animosity he felt toward the souled vampire, and it wouldn’t have been fair to Wesley. He couldn’t bear waking up to another cold rejection. Not now, not when he felt so empty and alone the simplest touch might shatter his heart into a million pieces. “I know how you feel about Angel so I had to tell you the truth.”

“He’s a sorry son of a bitch.” The words ripped from his lips. “And he hurts everyone he ever comes into contact with. Breaks hearts like it was a hobby. Even Spike hated his guts. I have a theory about that but it isn’t important. Although now that you’ve told me the bastard’s been with you, I know I’m correct about what I’ve been thinking about him and Spike.”

“I had to tell you.” Wesley repeated quietly and started to rise, knowing it would probably be wise to sleep on the sofa tonight and maybe see if he could return to Giles’ place in the morning. 

Xander grabbed his arm. “Where’re you going?”

“To the sofa.”

“I thought we were going to talk and…stuff.” He said this last with a hopeful expression. 

Wesley’s eyes widened with surprise. “You want me…to stay?”

Xander nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Knowing I’ve had sex with ‘the undead’ doesn’t give you the creeps? Knowing I’m having ‘Dead boy’s’ son doesn’t ‘weird’ you out?”

Xander shook his head. “It shocks me, yes. I have to admit I never saw that one coming. You might say, you ‘blindsided’ me.” He couldn’t resist the pun but he delivered it with an apologetic grin. “What I don’t understand is how that sorry son of a bitch could leave you like this, carrying his baby. I mean, I can’t understand any man not wanting you or this wonderful baby.”

The sincerity of the young man’s words touched his heart and he felt his cheeks begin to heat with color. He slightly dropped his eyes. Xander thought that he was someone that should be wanted. Now he was the one who was ‘blindsided.’ “Angel doesn’t know about the baby. I didn’t know, myself, until I was about three months along. I mean, it’s not the sort of thing one would expect. I knew that something was wrong with me, and I exhausted every means at my disposal to find out what it was, before finally accepting the truth. Then I left L.A. and came here, hoping Giles could help me.”

“But why doesn’t Angel know?”

“I never told him, Xander. We were only together for that one night. The next morning he was gone and it was business as usual at Wolfram and Hart. He never mentioned the incident again, so neither did I. I didn’t want this to be a child and I didn’t want it to be Angel’s. I left L.A. and I never told him.”

“That sorry bastard!” The words ripped from his soul. “If I could get my hands on that cold, dead heart of his, I’d rip it from his chest and stomp on it.”

The level of animosity in Xander’s voice shocked Wesley and for a moment he was speechless.

“How dare he treat you this way. The prick doesn’t deserve you, Wes or this miracle.” Reaching out, he stunned the ex-watcher by placing his hand against the bulge of his stomach concealed beneath his shirt.

The simple kindness and the intensity of the act touched him to the very core and he felt his eyes begin to moisten. “Xander, Angel isn’t to blame. He didn’t do anything wrong. I know that you hate him, but he’s a good man. You can’t force another person to love you. I’ve found that out more than once in my life.” A fleeting vision of Winifred drifted though his mind and he forced it away. “One mustn’t let their love turn to hate when it isn’t reciprocated by the object of their affections. Angel’s done a lot of good for a lot of people. He’s a champion.”

“He’s a bastard and a fool.” The young man’s voice broke and Wesley was stunned to see his eyes begin to glisten. “I don’t know what nonsense he’s filled your mind with, but you’re better than this. You and the baby, you deserve to be treated better than this. And you deserve someone better than Angel.”

Wesley dropped his eyes; he wasn’t expecting this reaction or the intensity of their conversation. “I love him, Xander. I can’t lie to you. I might be able to lie to him, but I can’t and won’t lie to you. You deserve the truth.”

“I know you do.” He responded with the hint of a laugh. “Everyone does. I don’t know what the guy’s got but if they ever bottle it us normal guys are goners. Once he’s under your skin, you’re infected for life. I’m not going into this as blindly as you think I am.” Again he reached out and touched the mound of the baby hidden beneath Wesley’s Dockers and shirt. “I want to see you, Wes…all of you, without all these layers you hide beneath.” His voice fell to a husky level that shot straight to Wesley’s groin. 

He still wanted him.

Suddenly aware of just how beautiful and just how naked the young man was as he leaned near him on the bed, tentatively touching his stomach, Wesley drew in his breath and dropped his eyes to finally drink in the sight of just what was being offered to him. Milky white skin covered a shorter and heaver frame than his own, two dark eyes lighter and more golden brown than Angel’s eyes, and an irresistible, perfect behind. He wanted him. God how he wanted him. He felt his cock begin to throb as his eyes traveled farther down to be greeted by the evidence of Xander’s own arousal, a cock that was just as perfect as he imagined and hard as a rock. He wanted Wesley. Truly wanted him. The realization pushed him over the edge and he knew there was no turning back….

He reached out and slipped his hand to the back of Xander’s head, drawing him close and covering this mouth with his. The young man moaned and Wesley echoed the sound as he kissed him intensely, taking his lips, forcing them to part and sipping him tongue into the warm, moist depths. Xander’s tongue rose to meet his, stroking and sucking, pulling it deeper into his mouth and forcing his own into Wesley’s. The kiss was electrifying, unlike anything Wesley expected and his body tingled with anticipation, shaking with the expectation of fully claiming the young man. But was he ready, truly ready, for what Wesley knew he wanted from this encounter? He knew that Xander thought he was, but as he kissed those full, sensuous lips, he couldn’t help wonder if he really understood what he was getting himself into.

Wesley knew he was being terribly unfair. There were plenty of things the two of them could do, as that glorious tongue was doing captivating things to his mouth. But he wanted to fuck, and he wanted to be the one doing the fucking. He wanted it for months and he was about to explode. 

Hands were pulling at his clothes. He vaguely became aware of fingers working with the buttons of his shirt, and he fought to pull his lips from the wonderful mouth kissing his, to help him remove the shirt. He was hesitant to uncover the rounded stomach he kept covered for months, but he knew he had no choice if he wanted this encounter and he wanted it. God did he want it. He slipped from the shirt, tossed it aside and gasped when Xander’s hands swept over him, finding a tender nipple and squeezing it between his fingers. Wesley’s body jerked into the touch. He’d always been sensitive there, but since the baby, his nipples were more tender than he ever dreamed possible. “I could almost come from that,” he rasped against the young man’s ear, nibbling on the lobe and gently tracing the outline with the tip of his tongue. 

Xander sighed in reaction then returned his attentions to Wesley’s chest. “Sensitive, are ya?” He laughed, dipped his head and pressed his mouth to a nipple, sucking hard.

Wesley cried out and grabbed the back of Xander's head, forcing him closer. “Lord that’s good.” He was so hard that his trousers were about to kill him, but the friction was a glorious torture all its own.

Xander suddenly pulled back, a bewildered expression on his face; he tentatively touched Wesley’s chest and a smile crooked the corner of his mouth. “Wes, I swear to god, you’re lactating.”

“What!!!” 

“No kiddin.’ Not that I’ve ever tasted anything like that before but I’m pretty sure that’s what it is.”

In shock, Wesley pulled back and stared down at his chest, at the nipple swollen and red from Xander’s attentions. Gently, he touched it and pulled his hand away in astonishment when he saw the clear liquid on the tip of his finger. He looked up at Xander with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. The doctor said this probably wasn’t possible, but my hormones are working overtime.” He stared in wonderment at his hand. “Women who’ve adopted have been documented to have been able to produce breast milk. Still, I never expected this.”

“This is great!” He reached out and gave Wesley’s nipple another tweak that sent jolts of pleasure through his body. “Maybe this means you can actually feed the little sprout.”

“It’s doubtful I’ll produce that much milk. Besides, the thought of doing that…. well, I just don’t know if I could stand it.”

“Why not?”

“Xander, haven’t you noticed what it’s doing to me!” He dropped his eyes to the obvious bulge in his trousers. He stayed aroused almost twenty-four seven since becoming pregnant, just the thought of the constant stimulation to his nipples by a baby nursing was more than he could stand. He couldn’t imagine how women endured it. 

Xander laughed. “I’ll be around to take care of that.” He leaned near and gave the cloth-covered dick a satisfying squeeze, then reached for the fastenings on his trousers, snapping the button and pulling down the zipper strained almost to the point of bursting. Reaching in, he wrapped his hand around Wesley’s dick, finally pulling it free. Wesley thrust into the hand grasping him and quickly pushed his trousers down past his hips and off, letting them fall beside the bed. 

The hand on his hard, throbbing cock was more than he could stand. He reached for the youth, brought his mouth to his and kissed him, again thrusting his tongue past his lips to explore the warm, moist mouth and his tongue. Suddenly, he couldn’t get enough of Xander’s lips, his teeth, the hollow of his mouth. The kiss went on for what seemed an eternity. Xander’s hand on his erection began to pump, hard and fast and he thought he would go insane.

Reaching around his body, Wesley grabbed the young man’s glorious cock and began to jack him, returning the favor. He wanted Xander. Wanted all of him. To mold himself to the hills and valleys of his body and bury himself in that beautiful arse. “Xander,” he rasped against his ear. “You know what I want…what I really want, don’t you? I know I’m being selfish, but it’s been so long, so long I almost can’t remember what it’s like.”

“It’s alright.” The young man responded, breathless with desire. “I want this, Wes. I know what it feels like and I know that I want it.”

“It’s different than what you’ve experienced, much more intense….”

“Just do it!” He pulled away, stretched his beautiful naked body across the bed and reached into the bed stand, withdrawing a tube of lubricant that he tossed to an astonished Wesley who caught it in mid-air. A pack of condoms promptly followed.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Since our trip to the mall.” He nodded his head toward the stuffed Paddington bear sitting on their dresser, silently watching their exchange with wide, mischievous button eyes. “Maybe even since Sunnydale when I told Oz about those Pierce Brosnan eyes of yours.”

Wesley felt a shy smile pass over his lips and he stared at the tube in his hand. “Xander, you never cease to amaze me.”

“I just have one request.” He propped up on and an elbow and faced him. “Let me look at you. Really look at you. You’ve been hiding yourself from me for months and I wanna get a good look at you.” 

Wesley found himself feeling suddenly awkward. He hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since that memorable night at the sanatorium when he found himself in Angel’s arms, and his body had changed so much since then that he hardly recognized himself. Tall and thin with lean muscles built over the last few years, his body’s lines had given way to a rounded abdomen that stuck out absurdly, and the hard on he was sporting, jutting upward against that stomach, only added to the awkwardness of his appearance. He looked ridiculous and he knew it. Feeling Xander’s gaze wash over him, he suddenly wanted to run and hide.

“You’re perfect.” 

He couldn’t believe he heard the words and he gawked at the young man who lay on the bed studying him with a grin on his face.

Xander rolled over and stretched out on his belly like a contented cat, until he could reach Wesley sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed as if he were ready to flee. “You’re perfect,” he repeated, touching him with the tips of his fingers, lightly almost playfully across his thigh. “Just perfect.” Rolling up onto all fours, he sat up next to Wes and slowly ran his hands over the man’s chest, teasing the swollen nipples slightly reddened and larger than normal. Wesley moaned and Xander continued his journey until he reached his stomach, running his hands over the smooth, taunt skin and gently exploring his bellybutton, causing Wes to gasp. Xander grinned then reached for the red, swollen erection pressed against his belly, brushing his fingers over it lightly and watching it jump. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look. The little sprout has the perfect home.” With that, he bent down and pressed his lips to the round stomach, kissing softly with a reverence that stunned Wesley and sent his heart into palpations. His erection throbbed with the rush of blood and excitation that almost overwhelmed him when Xander’s lips slid slowly from his stomach to his dick, encircling it and sucking it down.

“God, yes!” His head flung back and his hips thrust forward into the willing mouth that wrapped around him. For someone who was new to this Xander was amazing. His hips moved with a mind of their own, plunging deep into his mouth and feeling the tantalizing graze of teeth gently scraping the sensitive skin. He could come like this. Would come like this within minutes. And his hips pumped faster, willing himself to do just that. It was perfect. Wonderful. Coming in that luscious mouth was the perfect solution to everything. He wanted this. Thrusting deep, he grabbed the back of Xander’s head, pushing him closer as he felt himself drawing nearer to his release….

Suddenly Xander was gone.

Wesley blinked in surprise, his heart beating franticly. “Wha…What?”

“Not like that, Wes.” He rolled onto his stomach, stretching his beautiful, naked body full-length on the bed and grabbing a pillow, he slipped it beneath his hips, presenting his arse for Wesley. That perfect, glorious arse.

Wesley felt his heart stop and he heard a long, drawn out moan. He realized it was coming from him even as he seized the lube and moved to the center of the bed where Xander laid. Reaching out, he grabbed the young man’s cheeks and squeezed, enticing a groan of pleasure from his throat that pleased Wesley beyond words. Xander wanted this, he truly wanted this. Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to a rounded globe and kissed the pale white skin. Xander arched backwards, welcoming the kiss and he smiled, gently nibbling then biting the skin and watching it redden beneath his attentions. Xander groaned again and he knew he was doing the right thing. Kissing him softly from the small of his back and trailing downward to the rise of his buttocks he reached the crack. Xander trembled beneath him. He gently eased the cheeks apart and pressed his tongue into the crevice. 

Xander’s body jerked. “Yes, Wes. Please. I never expected…”

His tongue continued to explore, teasing the crack with firm smooth strokes until he reached the tight entrance. He probed it, tickled gently and then pushed inside.

The young man cried out and pushed back, writhing against his mouth. “Please…Wes, please! I never dreamed.”

He continued to fuck him with his tongue, relishing Xan’s reaction to this new sensation. He was driving him crazy with pleasure and his own dick throbbed in rhythm to the thrusts of his tongue into the tight willing arse. He wanted Xander so badly he was about to explode, but his own gratification would have to wait. He had to show restraint. Reaching down beneath the hips thrusting up into his mouth he found the young man’s balls flattened lightly against the pillow. He stroked them with his fingers, enjoying their rough texture and the sounds coming from the youth’s throat from the moment he touched them. Xander’s hips were pumping back to grind against his mouth and alternatingly thrusting forward to force his cock into the pillow. 

“I’m gonna come, Wes.” The words strangled from his throat, muffled and barely audible. “I swear if you don’t stop, I’m gonna…”

Wesley pulled back, sat up and grabbed his own dick, swollen with anticipation. A few good jerks and he could easily come against the young man’s back. It wasn’t what he wanted but it would be fantastic; he wouldn’t feel the least deprived… 

“Wesley, would you *please* fuck me!”

It was all the encouragement he needed. Grabbing the lube, he coated Xander, then slipped on the condom and coated it too. Seizing the young man’s hips, he raised him slightly off the pillow toward the tip of his cock. Gently he probed, pushing just the head into the unbelievably tight opening that clamped down around him. It was hot, it was firm, it was wonderful and it was all he could do not to force himself all the way home. Xander moaned and squirmed. “Am I hurting you?”

“No!”

Xander pushed back and Wesley found himself buried even farther into that beautiful arse. He was shaking all over, bracing himself on his arms and fighting to slip in slowly…steadily…

Finally he was in to the hilt, his balls flush with the perineum and he threw back his head and howled. 

Xander laughed out loud and thrust back. “I never would have taken you for a screamer!”

Wesley laughed and pulled back out, thrusting again when Xander seemed willing to take it, then again and again. It was wonderful, better than he ever dreamed. His cock was sheathed in glorious Xander, hot and throbbing all around him, coaxing him to come as he’d never come before. His hips pumped madly in and out, then he tilted the angle until he found the spot he was looking for. Now it was Xander’s turn to scream. He was thrashing around beneath the ex-watcher like he was in pain, but Wesley knew that he wasn’t. Incoherent sounds were coming from his lips as Wesley pumped into him, hitting the spot again and again. Reaching around his waist he pulled the young man onto all fours and wrapped his hand around his dick, jacking him as he shagged him, hitting his prostate again and again and driving him wild. It was more than Xander could stand, and more than Wesley could bear as well. They moved together in a wild rhythm, their bodies racing toward release.

Xander was the first to reach it. Throwing back his head, his body jerked and he came in Wesley’s fist, long hot spurts coating his hand, his body instantly draining of strength and collapsing onto the mattress. The violent contractions of his body, already firmly wrapped around Wesley’s dick, drove him deeper and deeper toward his own completion. He thrust into the smooth, beautiful body stretched out beneath him, groaning with pleasure as he felt his own orgasm moving closer and closer. Reality narrowed until nothing remained but the body beneath him, his own throbbing cock and his approaching release. 

When it finally hit him, he could feel his heart stop. His breath caught and the sensation washed through, tingling down to the soles of his feet. His body shuddered and as the world slowly righted itself he caught himself barely in time to keep from collapsing on the youth lying sprawled beneath him. He laughed with relief, leaned down and placed an affectionate kiss on the back of Xander’s neck, nuzzling him gently with his face.

The young man who’d been lying exhausted and blissful beneath him, finally stirred and stretched like a contented cat. “Don’t start getting’ all girly on me now.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” Rolling over, he collapsed onto his side next to Xander and rested his sweat-drenched forehead against his shoulder. For a moment he merely breathed, willing his heart to return to normal. When it did, he whispered, “I’m ready to tell the others.”

“Tell them what?”

“About the baby.”

Xander smiled and wrapped his arms protectively around the man resting against him. He kissed the sweat soaked forehead. “We’ll tell them together.” 

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“*What?*” Buffy stood staring at Wesley as if he just told them Sunnydale had suddenly become unsucked from the bowels of the Earth. 

Andrew just stood wide-eyed for a moment then dropped the casserole he was holding from his hands. It shattered on the hardwood floor at his feet. “There goes dinner.”

Robin Wood merely chuckled.

“This is great.” Willow rose to her feet from the sofa where she’d been sitting next to Kennedy and looked around her uncertainly. “Babies are great…except of course when they aren’t so great, in which case this wouldn’t be great, but this one is great, right?” She stared at Wesley, a question in her eyes and he rewarded her with a shy smile and a nod. “Then it’s settled, this is great!”

Kennedy rolled her eyes. “Another mouth to feed.”

“A baby?” Dawn broke away from the group of huddled Slayers stunned into silence in a corner of the room. “But, Wesley, you’re a man.”

“That’s up for debate.” Buffy mumbled beneath her breath, eyeing him strangely. 

“It’s a mystery,” Wesley conceded with a shrug, grateful for the presence of Xander at his side and Giles across the room lending him silent support with his eyes. “We’ve spent months trying to figure it out, but we’ve come up empty.”

“Months?” Buffy rounded on him, her eyes falling to his expanding waist that now made perfect sense. “You’ve known about this for months and you’re just now getting around to telling us about it?”

“It’s why I came here, Buffy. To seek counsel and assistance from Giles.”

“You knew about this, too!” She spun around and faced her ex-watcher, a look of betrayal on her face. “How could you let us all look like fools by not telling us that Wes is…. that he’s pregnant!”

“We were trying to find a way to terminate it, Buffy, but we can’t, not without killing him. We weren’t certain what was growing inside of him.”

“Can I be the first person to say yuck?” Kennedy spoke up. “I mean, you’re telling us that you don’t know what’s growing inside of this guy?”

“It’s a baby.” Xander responded firmly, reaching out and resting a hand on Wesley’s arm. Wesley offered him a look of gratitude. “I’ve seen the sonogram. It’s a boy, a perfectly healthy, beautiful baby boy. Wesley’s going to have a son.”

A stunned silence fell.

“We’ve got to have a baby shower!” Dawn clapped her hands in glee and several of the other Slayers began to chatter excitedly among themselves. “You should have told us, Wesley. Did you think that we wouldn’t understand? It’s not like we haven’t seen just about every impossible thing there is to see. A pregnant guy, well, that’s pretty weird, but look what a bunch of crazy monks were able to make out of a key.”

Wesley gave her an uncertain look. “I didn’t know what to say or how to tell anyone. It was rather unnerving to say the least. After all, my gender notwithstanding, it’s not everyday one wakes up and finds oneself pregnant under mystical circumstances. I’ll admit to a certain degree of embarrassment, as well.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Dawn agreed. “You say it’s a boy. Are you sure?”

“It’s a boy, all right.” Xander grinned. “He’s got a little wiener; I saw it myself. Either that or three legs.”

Wesley looked alarmed at that. “Three legs!”

A tittering of laughter rippled through the group. 

“When’s your baby due, Wes?” Willow crossed the room to where he and Xander stood close to the doorway, as if ready to bolt at any moment. 

“About a month and a half.”

“You’re that far along!” She gasped in surprise, her eyes automatically falling to the bulge of his stomach. “We all kind of noticed that you’d packed on a few pounds but you don’t look like you’re about ready to deliver.”

“Speaking of which.” Buffy moved closer and studied his belly as well. “If you don’t mind my asking, just how is this baby supposed to be delivered? I mean, unless you’ve got parts you don’t want us to know about, the little guy’s sorta stuck.”

“Cesarean, Buffy,” he responded patiently. “We’re hoping to deliver it by cesarean, if we can drop the protective aura surround it.”

“And if you can’t?” Her face looked grim.

“We will,” Xander assured. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Buffy gave Wesley a probing look that made him feel uneasy. “Are you sure you’re telling us everything?”

“Everything you need to know,” he told her, avoiding her stare.

“You should be sitting down!” Dawn suddenly jumped forward and seized his hand. 

He tried to protest, but found himself tugged across the room and pushed into the most comfortable chair in the house, an overstuffed recliner. “I’m not an invalid,” he argued. 

Dawn laughed and slipped to her knees beside the chair, pressing her palms to his stomach, startling him. 

Suddenly Wesley found himself surrounded by a flock of excited young women, giggling and pressing their hands to his belly. His eyes widened in surprise and he tried to squirm away but couldn’t. He looked to Xander for help but the young man gave him a wicked smile that told him he was on his own. He settled back and resigned himself to the inevitable attention. For a man who was at heart painfully reserved the sudden interest in his body’s transformation made him very uneasy, but he accepted their curiosity as a natural consequence of being a member of this unique group. 

His life was never going to be the same.

Andrew, across the room, still stood looking down at the ruined casserole scattered at his feet. “Anybody up for Domino’s?”


	11. 11/11

*~*~*~*~*

 

Wesley lay propped up on the bed, his pillow fluffed behind him, a book resting against the mountain that was once his belly. His eyes scanned the colorful pictures as he flipped the pages filled with lively characters. He ran his hands over his swollen stomach and was rewarded by a familiar kick.

“Read that last part again.” Xander snuggled closer, reaching out and resting his hand against Wesley’s abdomen.

The baby kicked again.

“He knows I’m here!”

“So it would seem.” Wesley returned to the beginning of the book, his eyes studying the picture of the little bear in the blue coat. “He can hear your voice, Xander.”

“Really?” His eyes opened in amazement.

“I’m pretty sure that he can.” He prepared to begin reading the book a second time. “Wouldn’t you like another selection, Xander? It’s not as if the plot is so complex you didn’t get it the first two times I read it. Paddington goes to the circus; there’s no real mystery there.”

“Me?” The young man protested, laying his head against Wesley’s belly to see if he could hear the baby. “It’s Wusley Jr. that likes that particular one in the series.”

“And you know this because?”

Xander grinned. “Uncle Xan just knows these things.” He made an impatient motion with his hand, not bothering to lift his head from the impressive mound of stomach. “Hurry up. He says he wants to hear it.”

Wesley slowly shook his head and began again, glancing down now and again, at the dark head pressed against the protective home where his son was rapidly growing away. It seemed that Wesley had expanded like crazy this last week, and he felt monstrous. He actually waddled when he tried to walk these days and absolutely refused to leave the house. Xander found it amusing and strangely erotic. Wesley found it embarrassing, but he enjoyed the extra attention the young man was giving him even if he didn’t admit it.

Xander was kissing his stomach and it distracted him and he lost his place. He looked down at his friend who was rubbing his belly and talking softly to the baby.

“You really need to start thinking of names, Wes.” Xander looked up but didn’t remove his head from the pillow.

“Maybe I’ll think of something soon.” Wesley responded evasively.

The young man frowned and continued to run his hand in deep soothing strokes over the expanding mound. “You’ve been saying that for weeks. At this rate the kid’s going to be enrolling in Cleveland State before he has a name. Ya better hurry it up, unless you’ve got something silly planned like Reinhold or Reginald or Oliver or something?”

“Oliver?”

“We’ll that’s a British name, isn’t it? You know, as in Oliver Twist?”

Wesley laughed and rolled his eyes, not bothering to even comment. “As far as Cleveland State is concerned, I was rather hoping for Harvard. Unless, of course, Oxford or Yale is available.”

Xander smiled and continued to rub the impressive mountain, his sweeps becoming wider and more encompassing, taking in a bit of his ticklish sides and farther down to brush parts of him that needed little encouragement to begin to stir. He ignored the slight look of reprimand Wesley gave him each time he ventured there. “Why don’t you want to name the baby, Wes?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. He wasn’t quite sure of the answer to that one, himself. He knew that in time he would arrive at the perfect name but for some reason, now that the time was mere weeks away, he was reluctant to commit to a name by himself. It seemed like the sort of thing both parents should do together…

He quickly pushed that thought from his head, ashamed of himself for having had it. This baby had only one parent, a hoard of aunts and uncles, to be sure, but only one parent. Why was he thinking about the baby’s other parent now?

He pushed the thought from his head and concentrated on the hands that were nowhere near his stomach, but had instead ventured downward to tease his cock that had sprung to life and was taking an interest in its surroundings.

“Xan….” The word was a strangled reprimand.

Xander raised two repentant eyes in his direction but didn’t stop what he was doing. 

“I can’t.” He breathed softly and with obvious regret. “I just don’t have it in me, tonight. I’m sorry, but my back’s killing me and…”

“You don’t have to do a thing.” 

With that, he slipped down the length of Wesley’s cumbersome body and reached into his sweatpants, wrapping his hand around his now hard cock.

“Xan, you don’t have to do this…”

Xander grinned and twisted onto his side, half lying, half propped on the bed, and urging Wes to slightly turn on his side as well, he slipped the erection into his mouth.

Wesley sighed and closed his eyes. Xander’s blowjobs just got better and better. He was an unbelievably quick learner. Wesley knew that he should be ashamed of himself for enjoying this luxury so immensely when he couldn’t reciprocate, but he couldn’t help himself. The lips around his dick were warm and tight and perfect and he couldn’t resist.

Xander swallowed him whole with scarcely a gag. A talent he never dreamed the boy would possess. He gasped and thrust into that beautiful mouth always willing and eager to receive him.

The baby kicked, protesting the sudden shift from story time.

“Sorry, little one,” he rasped and thrust again. “It’s daddy’s and Uncle Xan’s playtime.”

Xander laughed around his dick and the vibrations traveled up his spine, threatening to send him spiraling over the edge. Wesley’s breath grew ragged and his heart was racing in his chest as his hips pumped with a mind of their own into that mouth. His entire existence became nothing but those talented lips and the dark head bobbing on his cock. He grabbed the back of Xander’s head and encouraged him to move harder and faster, hoping in the back of his mind that he wasn’t hurting the young man, but not really able to make himself quite care if he was.

He knew he was a sight, long and lanky and eight months pregnant, his stomach huge, but Xander didn’t seem to mind in the least. In fact, he was captivated by his body and couldn’t seem to get enough of it. Touching, stroking….

Sucking. 

God he couldn’t seem to get enough of Wesley’s cock in his mouth. Wesley’s hips pumped madly, each stroke bringing him closer and closer to the edge…

Xander shifted his angle, his teeth barely scraping the sensitive skin…

Wesley’s body jerked and a cry escaped his lips as he thrust a final time into that wonderful mouth. “Xan!”

Laughter bubbled from his chest as sweet release rushed though him, leaving his heart beating wildly and his breath coming in ragged gasps. Reaching down, he gently entwined his fingers in the dark hair of the head still resting quietly against his inner thigh, his now flaccid cock still in the young man’s mouth as he leisurely ran his tongue around the head.

Minutes passed in blissful silence then finally Xander stirred and gazed up at his companion with bright, shining eyes. Giving his dick a final kiss, he breathed, “If I made a wish, I wonder if the Gods would grant it?”

“What would that be?”

“That you’d stay pregnant forever.”

Wesley looked appalled. “Why the devil would you want that?”

“It’s the only way I can get you to stay in bed.” He laughed.

Wesley shook his head and urged him to come up and join him at his side. He did, stretching out beside Wes and resting his head against his shoulder, cuddling close.

The world was a crazy, empty, dangerous place, but Wesley suddenly knew that everything was going to be all right.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Angel!”

The world came crashing down around Wesley’s ears and he had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing. 

Standing in the doorway, looking bigger than life, his black leather coat wafting around him, caught by the evening breeze…

“Angel?”

His dark eyes sought Wesley’s and the ex-watcher took a faltering step back. Those eyes traveled slowly over him, taking in his misshapen form, lingering on his stomach, and Wesley’s surprise twisted to anger.

A thousand unanswered questions swam through his mind but he suppressed them and stood in silence, staring at the vampire standing in the open doorway, his back silhouetted against the steadily darkening sky.

Their eyes locked and the minutes passed. 

Finally, it was Angel who dropped his gaze. “Wesley,” he said simply.

“Angel.”

His eyes moved past Wesley’s shoulder into the room beyond, taking in the cozy living room with the first fire of the season crackling merrily in the fireplace, an assortment of figurines on the mantelpiece interspersed with smiling pictures of the gang. 

“Everyone’s out on patrol,” he stated simply. “Perhaps, you’d rather come back later.”

“Wes?” He swallowed, shifting uneasily on the doorstep.

Again, the minutes stretched, but Wesley wasn’t giving any quarter. He didn’t have time for this nonsense. 

“Buffy isn’t likely to rendezvous here with our group tonight. If she patrols, she usually heads straight back to Giles’ place.”

“I didn’t come to see Buffy.”

“Oh.” His tone was flat. 

“Wes, for Pete’s sake, can I come in, already? It’s cold out here.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Angel, I know good and well that you do not feel the cold.” With that mild reprimand, he stepped aside and motioned toward their living room; the welcoming scent of hickory in the air mingled with a hint of cinnamon from an apple pie left cooling on the counter in the kitchen an hour ago. “I bid you enter.” 

He led him past the grandfather clock ticking in the entryway and toward a comfortable, old, elaborately carved rocker, that Xander acquired for Wesley from an antique dealer and refurbished on his own. He motioned for the vampire to sit.

“Tea?” He inquired simply. Knowing it would be uncivilized not to offer a guest tea on a cold autumn evening. His mother would be appalled by such a breach of etiquette. 

Angel shook his head, dropping his eyes to the polished oak handles of the rocker and running his hands absently over the wood. The sound of the Grandfather clock ticking merrily away rose to fill the silence of the homey room.

“All right, Angel, you may be immortal, but some of us have limited life spans. What the hell is this all about?”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me!” 

The words ripped from Angel’s chest with an intensity that stunned Wesley and he took a faltering step back then regained his composure and countered. “Don’t you dare try and blame this on me you big, stupid vampire.” The barely controlled rage came rushing to the surface and he advanced on the seated vampire with fire in his eyes.

He expected a reaction from Angel equal in intensity, but instead, Angel merely dropped his gaze to study the rug on the hardwood floor before the fireplace. The reflection of the flames danced in the darkness of his eyes but he said nothing. 

The silence became oppressive and Wesley was tired of it. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m eight and a half months pregnant, big as a house, my back’s killing me, and I’m in no mood for games. So would you kindly get to the point of this little impromptu visit?”

“Your back hurts?” He hastily scrambled to his feet and offered Wes the rocker that was obviously his. “I’m sorry…you really shouldn’t be on your feet.”

“I hardly see how my welfare is of any concern to you these days.” He continued to regard the vampire without expression. “Looking back, I rather doubt it ever was one of your concerns.”

Angel looked as if he’d been struck, but Wesley didn’t care. His back really did hurt, and his feet didn’t feel much better. They were swollen and his shoes didn’t fit. Then suddenly, for some bizarre reason, he thought of the fresh apple pie setting on the kitchen counter just waiting to be cut and topped with ice cream. Rebecca stopped by earlier in the day and baked it just for him. He wished Angel would hurry up and leave so he could have a slice.

“Wes, what would make you think that I don’t care about your welfare?”

The absurdity of the vampire’s statement almost made him burst out laughing but he restrained himself. “Oh, I don’t know.” He waved his hand dismissively in the air. “Maybe it was the three and a half months of total silence from you, and the five months prior to that when I was lucky to get a nod from you in the lift.”

“It wasn’t because I didn’t care,” he replied softly.

“Well, just be careful that you don’t overwhelm me with your concern. I wouldn’t want you to get so overjoyed that I’m doing fine that you risk that pesky soul of yours.” 

Angel’s eyes widened and he looked like he was going to reply, but Wesley interrupted with a curt, “I really don’t have time for this. It’s late and I’m tired and there’s an apple pie calling me from the kitchen. So if you don’t mind, could we call it an evening?”

“I have to know that you’re all right. That everything’s all right with you, you and the baby.

“We’re simply smashing,” he responded tersely. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my baby and I would like to have a piece of pie.”

“It’s my baby, too.”

He suddenly felt as if he’d been slammed in the gut and it was all he could do to remain standing. He grabbed the back of the sofa to keep from slipping to the floor. 

Instantly alarmed, Angel darted to his side and seized his arm, leading him to the rocker and forcing him to sit.

The silence that surrounded them was deafening as Wesley fought to catch his breath. “How did you even know that I was pregnant?” He finally found his voice. “Why did you come here?”

“Buffy called me.” He replied to the ex-watcher’s surprise.

“Why would Buffy ring you concerning me?”

“She knew that I’d want to know how you were doing.”

“If you had wanted to know, you might have bothered to pop by a month ago when you were in town.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see you, Wes.” He looked away and stared into the flames dancing in the fireplace. 

“I’m sorry, Angel. How callous of me to forget that someone had a gun to your head preventing you from visiting me. You might have at least popped by and waved a cheery little ta ta on your way out of town.”

Angel’s face was ashen and he suddenly looked older than Wesley had ever seen him look when he turned back to face the pregnant man in the rocking chair. “I’m sorry. I thought it was best. So much happened with Cordelia and the deal I made with Wolfram and Hart. Everything that happened before with Angelus and…”

“What does any of this have to do with us?”

“It has everything to do with us! It was just too fresh in my mind, the memory of being Angelus again.”

“What are you babbling on about?” He snapped, losing all patience with this discussion. “You made it perfectly clear over eight months ago that you didn’t want me. That you, in fact, couldn’t stand to even be in the same room with me. Now, I’m not a love struck teenage girl, I knew good and well what I was getting myself into that night. I knew that you loved Buffy and always would, but I might have thought you’d at least have the decency to ring me in the morning. We were friends. Admittedly, my feelings might have run deeper than commonsense should allow, but by God, we were friends, and I thought we would at least retain that much of our previous relationship. Was our night together so terribly dreadful that you couldn’t bear to even show me the common courtesy of a nod the next day?”

“I did what I thought was best!” His face said that he was imploring Wes to understand, but the ex-watcher was in no mood tonight to shove it all under the rug and pretend that he had no feelings. 

“What was best for you, Angel.” He replied coldly. “It’s always about what’s best for you, isn’t it? You got what you needed that night and I got…well, I guess I got what I deserved.”

“I couldn’t risk hurting you like I’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever cared about. Buffy, her friends, Cordelia, my own son. Wesley, there are things about the deal I made with Wolfram and Hart that I can’t tell you about…”

“I told you that I trusted you to make the right decision concerning that, Angel, and I meant it. Regardless of how I feel about this issue between us, I know in my heart that whatever deal you made with Wolfram and Hart concerning us, it was the best possible decision you could make at the time.”

The strength drained from the vampire’s legs and he sank to the floor in front of Wesley’s chair. The sorrow in his eyes took the ex-watcher by surprise.

“Angel?”

“You trust me so implicitly, don’t you? Even after everything that’s happened. I wish I’d trusted you that same way when you took Connor that night.”

Wesley looked away, unable to bear the memory of what he’d done and the child lost forever in a hell dimension.

“After everything that happened. The danger to all of you that Angelus represented when we released him to kill the Beast, I couldn’t bear to risk that again.”

“What the hell does that have to do with us?”

“There’s something that you don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly,” he responded calmly. “Let’s just admit that you made a mistake that night…”

“I did…a terrible one.”

Wesley squeezed his eyes shut. He knew it was true, but a part of him had hoped the vampire might at least try to deny it.

“I almost lost my soul that night.”

Wesley’s eyes flew open. The air gushed from his lungs and he sat staring at the vampire totally dumfounded. His brain refused to process the meaning of Angel’s words and he continued to stare without responding. 

“Did you hear what I said?”

“No!” He sprang from his chair and backed away. “This is some sort of sick, twisted joke.”

Angel slowly shook his head and rose to his feet. His eyes beseeched him to understand. “I almost lost my soul that night.” He repeated. “You have no idea how far down I was, how empty, after everything that happened. If you hadn’t been there…I don’t know what might have happened. But you were. I shouldn’t have been with you. I shouldn’t have used you that way and I’m sorry. I’ve had feelings for you since you came to L.A, but I had no idea the depth of those feelings until that night. If I hadn’t felt so lost and utterly depressed because of everything else, I know that I would have lost my soul when we made love and I probably would have killed you.” 

“What!” Wesley was still shaking his head, unwilling to believe what he was hearing. Angel used the phrase, ‘made love.’ “To lose your soul, everything would have to be perfect. A moment of perfect happiness. There’s no way I could have given you that!”

“Yes you could.” His eyes moistened with sadness. “It’s why I couldn’t be with you, can *never* be with you. It’s why I came here last month to talk with Buffy.”

“Buffy?” He repeated the word dumbly. What Angel was saying didn’t make sense. “What does Buffy have to do with this?”

“I felt that I owed it to her to tell her in person that she and I will never be together. When I was in Sunnydale the last time, we talked about the possibility of someday being together, but I realized that could never happen. So I owed it to her to tell her she should move on. I also told her that I had feelings for you.”

“But you couldn’t tell me!” His thoughts spun wildly out of control. This couldn’t be happening. No wonder Buffy had been so moody and cold toward him after Angel’s last visit.

“I couldn’t bear to see you, Wes. I thought it would be easier this way, for both of us. I didn’t know about… God, I didn’t know about the baby! Buffy called me because she knew how I felt about you. She didn’t want you to be alone.”

Wesley continued to back away still shaking his head, until his back was flush with the wall. Buffy actually contacted Angel out of concern for *him?* This wasn’t happening. He dropped his face into his hands. 

“The baby’s mine.”

Angel’s voice wafted softly to his ears.

“You don’t know that!” He raised his head and glared.

“I do.” He continued quietly. “You know it, too.”

Slowly he nodded. There was no use denying the truth. Angel had a right to know he was having a son. 

“I think I caused this, Wes.” His tone held an edge of desperation that was almost frightening in its intensity. “My deal with Wolfram and Hart, I think it somehow caused this and I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry…”

“Slow down! Wolfram and Hart? You think they caused this? Why? I don’t see what they’d have to gain by pulling a stunt like this.”

“I don’t think they wanted this to happen as such, but when I made the agreement with them it included provisions concerning my son that I can’t go into.”

Wesley’s eyes widened in horror and his hands flew to his stomach. “This isn’t Connor!”

“No. That’s not what I meant. Trust me, I know for a fact that it isn’t, but I think that part of my desire to set things right may have been misinterpreted to mean that I wanted a son. They agreed to all of my demands.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can. Before I left L.A. I received a visit from Lilah. It’s been months since she returned to this plane of existence, but the senior partners allowed her to return long enough to let me know that somehow they caused this as part of their perceived obligation to me…”

“Or to me.” He interrupted softly as the pieces began to fit in his mind. “I took your son. I wanted to make this right. I would have given anything to make this right. I told any deity that would listen that I wanted to correct what I’d taken from you. Maybe it wasn’t your bargain they were honoring but mine.”

“We’ll never know.” Angel responded, his eyes falling to Wesley’s rounded stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He repeated calmly, meeting the dark brown eyes with firm resolve. “No matter what happens, Angel, know this, I’m not sorry. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life.” He rested his hands on the mound that protected his son. “But this isn’t one of them.”

The ghost of a smile whispered over Angel’s lips and his eyes moistened with emotion.

Wesley reached out and gently took the vampire’s hand, placing it against his belly. “Angel, meet your son.”

“My son,’ he repeated in awe, disbelieving that after everything that had happened, Wesley would share this miracle with him. His eyes widened with wonder when the tiny life stirred beneath his hand, and he sank to the floor on his knees. The hand pressed to Wesley’s stomach started to tremble and the vampire began to cry.

Wesley couldn’t believe what he was seeing. In all the years he’d known the man, he’d only seen him weep once. The night they conceived this child. His heart rose into his throat and he didn’t know what to say. He watched in silent fascination as the tears trailed down the vampire’s face. “Angel?” he breathed.

“Come back with me, Wes.” He raised his head and implored him with his eyes. “Return with me to L.A.”

“I can’t.” He slowly shook his head. “My son belongs here. He has family here and I want him raised with that family surrounding him. This is our home now. I never thought that I would belong anywhere, but we belong here. I want him to live here, to see the changing seasons, autumn’s leaves and winter’s snow.”

Angel dropped his head and rested his cheek against the mound. “Can I be a part of his life, as well?”

His heart fluttered in his chest and his eyes began to sting. “As much or as little as you want. You’re his father.”

The big vampire began to shake and Wesley reached down, wrapped his arms around his trembling form and held him close. 

“I love you, Wes.”

His breath caught in his throat and he didn’t know what to say. It was just too much to process. The words he’d waited a lifetime to hear…

“But we can never be together.”

“I know.” Wesley gently stroked the dark head resting against him, pressed near to the tiny life that made it all worthwhile. The very love he hoped to gain was the very thing that would forever keep them apart. “Even so, I’ll always have a part of you.”

“And I of you.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life but this isn’t one of them.” Another pain twisted his gut and he squeezed Angel’s arm tighter than he intended, but the vampire didn’t mind. “Somehow I didn’t expect there to be contractions.”

“It’s your body’s attempt to expel the fetus. It doesn’t know that the child can’t be born.” Doctor Kyarsky’s face was grim as he puttered around the examining room gathering his equipment. “You have many friends. My waiting room has never been so packed and there are others waiting on the sidewalk outside.”

Many friends.

“Family.” A smile softly passed over his lips. Yes, he and the baby had more family than he ever dreamed possible. Xander was right, the ever-expanding group of Scoobies and Slayers couldn’t wait to be a part of this baby’s life. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Wes.”

Xander’s voice drifted reassuringly into his thoughts and he turned to his left and met the concerned eyes of his lover. Xander leaned near, pressed a damp cloth to his forehead, and offered him a shaky smile. “I hate to see you hurting. I’d take it away if I could.”

“I know that, Xan.”

“You will not have to suffer the discomfort of a lengthy delivery. It’s one of the advantages of cesarean. It eliminates hours struggling to deliver. When the anesthesiologist arrives the spinal will take care of the pain.” Kyarsky patted his shoulder. “Recovery on the other hand, is much more uncomfortable. You’ll probably be down for weeks.”

“Discomfort?” Wesley chuckled lightly. “Is that what you call this? It’s like the time I was shot in the gut, only this time, I’m being shot again about every three minutes. I don’t see how women endure this for hours and hours.”

“I’m told the end result outweighs the pain. But who am I to say.” The doctor shrugged and continued his preparations, reaching for Wesley’s arm and carefully inserting the intravenous line. Then turning, he wheeled the heart monitor into place.

“Of that I have no doubt.” Wesley winced as another pain hit him, contorting his body that couldn’t possibly hope to ever expel the child on its own. He squeezed Angel’s arm almost to the point of breaking but the vampire didn’t flinch. 

Angel was standing on his right, his dark eyes locked on the man lying in pain on the table. “Wes?” His voice trembled with concern.

“I’m fine,” he responded. “There’s no pain between contractions. And like the doctor said, it’s going to be worth it.”

Angel’s face said that he wasn’t so certain. He turned troubled eyes in Kyarsky’s direction. “Are you sure you can get to the baby without harming Wes?”

“There is nothing certain about any of this. Even the contractions aren’t following any set pattern.” He responded bluntly. “It’s my theory that the aura surrounding it will dissipate now that it’s ready to be born. If not, we can breach it and get the baby out before he suffocates, but…”

“Wes will die.”

“I’m hoping the spells we have in place will protect Wesley. Your young Wicca friend will be assisting me as well as the anesthesiologist and a second surgeon who I trust not to betray our confidence. The young Wicca is most powerful. She knows the incantations we’ll be using.”

Angel nodded. Willow had been researching the problem for weeks. She was the strongest Wicca any of them had ever known, but anything that Wolfram and Hart had a hand in made him extremely uncomfortable. He reached down and rested his palm on Wesley’s stomach. 

The ex-watcher offered him a shaky smile. “The baby’s fine.” He assured, his blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hold my son in my arms.”

Angel stroked his belly. “Our son.”

Wesley turned as the door opened and the anesthesiologist named Baxter, who he met earlier in the week, slipped into the room, followed by a man he didn’t know but he assumed to be the second surgeon. Wesley turned to Kyarsky and said firmly. “No matter what happens, the baby comes first.” His two companions standing on either side of him opened their mouths to protest but he silenced them with a frown. “My son comes first.”

The vampire’s eyes deepened and he looked away. 

Xander leaned near and pressed his lips to the damp forehead. “I brought Paddy along.” He nodded toward the stuffed bear sitting propped on an orange plastic chair in a corner of the room. “I’ll make sure it’s the first thing our little sprout sees the minute he’s born.” Angel snorted lightly and Xander rolled his eyes. “After Deadboy here, of course. I guess he can see the old vampire first.”

Wesley laughed and another contraction hit, taking his breath away.

“Do you think we could get a little something for the pain here, Doc?” Xander turned to Kyarsky who was lighting a series of candles around the room. Interspersed among the high-tech monitors, they made the room a bizarre setting for the delivery of a baby. 

“I’m all right.” Wesley assured. “Don’t’ bother Kyarsky, he’s busy.” 

The sound of the doctor’s voice filled the tiny room as he began to chant. He nodded to the anesthesiologist who crossed the room to Wesley’s side.

“We’re going to do a spinal and you’ll be awake for the procedure as we discussed earlier.” Baxter gently urged Wesley to turn onto his side as he lifted the sheet and prepared the area for the injection. “You’re going to become completely numb from the chest down and you may not be able to feel yourself breathe, but there’s no need to panic.”

Xander’s eyes widened when he saw the needle and he flinched as it entered his lover’s back.

“There’s morphine in this, isn’t there?” A wistful smile passed over his lips. He had fond memories of morphine from the days following his gunshot wound. But he avoided taking it during his recovery from the throat injury for fear that he’d learn to like it too much. The numbness quickly spread and he fought to breathe even though his breathing was normal. 

Baxter gently massaged his shoulders, urging him to relax as he helped him lie back down. “Everything’s going to be just fine. You may feel like there’s no ‘you’ from the chest down, but everything’s still where it’s supposed to be.”

“Angel.” Wesley motioned for the vampire to lean near and he whispered against his ear. “Promise me, no matter what our son turns out to be you’ll protect him.”

“What!” The vampire looked shocked, but Wesley cautioned him to silence.

“Visually, he’s perfectly normal, but there’s no way to know for certain. Please, swear to me that no one will harm our baby.”

“I swear.” His face hardened and a flash of amber glowed in his eyes. “No one will *ever* harm this child. I made this promise once before and I failed to keep it. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Wesley breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that he could release himself into the hands of fate, knowing his child’s life was secure. Angel would defend their son with his very life. “Thank you.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply to calm the racing of his heart as he felt Kyarsky begin to wash his abdomen. Lulled by the gentle cadence of the doctor’s chant that rose and fell around him, he inhaled the fragrance of incense that wafted in the air.

“Thank you, Wes.”

The vampire’s voice reached his ears and he opened his eyes. “For what?”

“Everything. Being my friend when I couldn’t even stand myself. Believing in me when no one in their right mind would. And most of all, for this…” He rested his palm against the mound protecting their unborn child. “The most perfect gift I could ever receive.”

“It was nothing.” Wesley shrugged then smiled softly as he closed his eyes….

 

In the fall of 2004, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce went to sleep.

 

*~*~*~*~*

In the spring of 2005, Angel shanshued.

 

*~*~*~*~*

*2006*

 

The man on the bench leaned back and relaxed in the evening sun. He watched his beautiful son in silence…

The toddler ambled toward the wildflowers, gathering them in his tiny hands and giggling. He turned to look back at his father sitting on the bench who urged him on with a smile. The child pulled far too many flowers from the earth, roots and all, his pudgy fingers soiled with dirt as they slipped from his hands to the ground. He frowned and bent to gather them again, only to lose them all.

Angel laughed as he watched his son struggle with the dilemma of whether to settle for the few flowers that he could reasonably hold or continue to try for more, only to lose them all. If his son was like him, he would struggle on indefinitely dropping the daffodils and getting nowhere. If his son was like his other daddy…

The child began to gather the flowers one by one, methodically and patiently stuffing them into his pockets until he collected them all.

“You aren’t like me.” He smiled, shaking his head. 

“Flower!” The child beamed with pride, his blue eyes sparkling as he held up a single daffodil.

Angel nodded, bent forward and held out his arms, beckoning the toddler toward him. “We’ll take them to daddy.”

Sunlight caressed his dark hair as he raced to his father’s arms as fast as his legs could carry him. The moment the boy reached him, Angel rose from the bench and swooped him up, tossing him into the air and relishing the sound of his giggles as he caught him in his arms. Resting the boy on his hip, he turned and scooped up the well-worn stuffed bear that was setting on the bench behind him and held it out to the child who eagerly wrapped his arms around it, instantly stuffing one of its ears into his mouth.

It was peaceful here in the early evening and Angel almost hated to leave, but it was time to head home. Buffy would be waiting for them…

Carrying his son past the banks of the lake, the sun’s evening rays reflected in the still waters, Angel headed toward their special place. Placing a kiss on his tiny forehead, he lowered the child to the ground and knelled beside him, helping him as he awkwardly retrieved the broken daffodils from his pockets. Together they managed to salvage a few of the pitiful flowers, their necks feeble and bent, petals missing.

The child smiled…

And laid them on the grave.

 

~~End


End file.
